What a sham.

...But if I were to try to sort through the disarray I would probably start in Italy, when I spent my seven year old summers breathing freedom, tasting sweat, "ouch"ing bee stings, and running on bare feet.

I'm a fraud, a sham even. I'm a confusing recipe with way too many ingredients but I have to trust that the chef knows what he's doing. Basically I'm an American-faker. I don't belong here, in southern Memphis Tennessee, but fate has kicked my life all over the globe and someone in the heavens decided I belonged here... thus is life, right? But if I were to try to sort through the disarray I would probably start in Italy, when I spent my seven year old summers breathing freedom, tasting sweat, "ouch"ing bee stings, and running on bare feet. That's where my life started, it's where my foundation was laid, and I have to remember. I have to remember because someone needs to know it wasn't a dream. Even if that someone is only me.

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