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There is a place not far from where I live. It is my own private Stonehenge, a solemn ground with crumbling walls and grotesque, incomplete structures whose function is a mystery to anyone who might inquire. Not many do. For while folks skirt this place regularly, they have no apparent interest in these homely, forgotten monuments.

This fate will befall all of us at some point. Obsolescence lies at the core of all things. I only hope a curious boy will one day tread upon my own ruins while an ancient wind lashes his face. May he toss pebbles and wonder, just as I do.

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Forgotten World
September 2012