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The walls keep record of my youth
to bring nostalgia, remorse,
and cause hesitation in an old, swift movement;

They witness my progressive life,
listen carefully, then echo reflections
of mistakes gone long unmentioned;

They withhold messages of growing
emotions and whisper from room to room,
binding me by my own existence;

They surround like judging eyes that
are aware of how context evolves me;

They shall see me upon my return.
Then, let them wonder what the air has done to me.