Remember the time… I only wanted to be with you?

I am now coming to an age when I have lots of memories, like a basket of chestnuts to turn over a bored fire. Some memories are painfully embarrassing, though I suppose I should enjoy it though; this is the marrow of my life, and those days are not coming back. Which is sometimes for the better, as there are certain things I don’t need to live twice.

Like the first concert I went to….

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