water_tower raze it still stands in the same place it stood when you were younger, in the town you spent some time growing up in — a town that was amalgamated with four other townships to become part of a larger town they gave a larger name. you went from the city to the town to the city again, and you've been in the city so long now, to visit the town is to visit a ghost with its teeth torn out. the menace is gone but the memory of it lingers. that old motel is still there. that old ice cream place too. a house from your youth seems to have disappeared. you don't know if someone knocked it down or if a new paint job is playing tricks on you, but it isn't where you remember it being. you didn't live there, but you spent time there, reading, trying to make yourself small, sometimes sleeping, sometimes remembering the little movies sleep brought with it, eating stale refrigerated cookies and drinking orange tang. that house was where you learned to hate mushroom soup, and where you warmed your ass on the radiator in the wintertime, and where you got in trouble for pushing a girl wearing rubber boots who kept kicking you in the shins as hard as she could because she thought it was funny, and if you could go back and do it again, you'd only do one thing different. you'd push harder. 140627 what's it to you? who go blather from