THINK OF HOME

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Here among these withered and fateless trees,
you see that your father is not the only ghost of your past that you'll find.

A shop...





... and him.

Right down to the busted shoe... your actual childhood friend, in the vision of your memory.

You don't show it, but you feel a little sick... and your face is frozen.

"My, oh, my," you start, in that old slowness you've likened to using,

"If it isn't Antony Faraday."

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