Sometimes We Sing

This was going to be the forward to a book, a dedication, for a story I’ve long since forgotten.

It could be called a dedication to take better notes.

It is a story plucked in refrain. We hear the verses. We know the chorus. It’s the song we hum to ourselves. It comes into our hearts, our minds without words. It whispers to us in the noise of our youth. It is with us when we are the only ones left on the earth that we know. It is with us as we come and as we go.

Sometimes we listen. Sometimes we sing. Sometimes we dance to it as we walk down the streets of the city we live in. And sometimes we think we cry for no reason.

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