Once upon a time, I lived a large and global life. I swam in tropical waters and built sand castles on white sand beaches. My first words were spoken in two different languages. My first memories are of being the pale skinned minority, perpetually sunburned in a sea of brown skin. I have held hands with primates, eaten roasted frog off a banana leaf, and once shared a bottle of water with a bear. I have seen the world from some of the highest peaks and walked on ancient city streets, soaking history up through my feet. I have grown bleary eyed and stiff necked from hours of gazing up at the ornate sculpted and painted arches of countless chapels and cathedrals and given beggars money in a variety of currency. I know the smell of death and rotting flesh, and the destitution of true poverty. I have swam in sulfurous volcanic pools and witnessed the aftermath of war. I have embraced and had to abandon motherless children, and I have participated in creating life. I have faced death and chosen life. My heart has broken and mended so many times….

Now, this expansive gypsy soul lies dormant and periodically restless in a life that sometimes does not fit, in this town that grows ever smaller. This place is for the overflow.

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