Place Called Home
... As I start uncovering all those images and sounds that were left abandoned back in the corner in that old dusty trunk we call memory, my heart seems to strut nervously as I lift my eyes in awe to get a glimpse of this forgotten paradise I once called home, as it starts to slowly surrender into the arms of Morpheus. ... After all these years our home still comes alive, standing tall, as a silent witness that held back time, that grew out the smell of younger years, but kept the scent of better times tattooed on its walls.