The last time I saw the old place was years ago. The old dirt road curved through the woods, and suddenly the old house appeared like a memory from a past life. The place was bedraggled, yet spoke of happy days. Considered a nice home in its day, the place is now only a silent memorial. The echoes of the large family who lived within the walls whispered in the breeze.Their spirits danced in light rays playing across the unmowed yard. I loved this living, holy place.
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