Recently I made a trip to the farm in Northern Ontario where I did much of my growing up.
Visits there are always bittersweet.
I felt my self longing after something
or hardening for protection.
The place in my mind hasen't changed,
but the reality has.
This used to distress me, but now
in the moment
I can see it's decay, collapse and aging
as a kind of
temporal art
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