there is something extremely unsettling about visiting a place you once lived. it is mainly in how unstrange it is. like your brain shuts off and your body relaxes because it knows where it is so innately that the body quiets and feels its way. except the externals are all wrong — you’re not sure where you’re going or what you’re doing. you no longer have a place here — but it still feels right. except it’s cold out and you have no recollection of the fall or when the sky turned gray or when the trees lost all their leaves.
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