there is a magic show
there is a magic show that i keep in a box at home underneath my bed inside of a secret plastic bag that’s folded between two envelopes that i remember buying the first time i went to paris and saw the beautiful lights. i really miss those days because those were the days you could fly literally with these carpets that you could get anywhere for a pittance. all you really needed was a place to fly and there was plenty of that in the countryside. my father owned a farm there with all these chickens and i remember they use to come in at dinner and ask us to sing songs and we did because that’s the kind of family we were.
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