Sitting.
Fresh berries taste like grandma's house.
Summer smells like sanity.
Sanity smells soothing.
A fantastic idea but impossible to achieve while in art school.
Failed courses remind me of Bendigo.
The halls of high school stinks of failure.
Things stay the same after your gone, no matter how much you change.
Those halls still reek of discomfort.
Awkwardness returns.
The popular ones still intimidate.
The bathrooms still smell foul.
Kittens always bring smiles.
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