The White Album

On the border, the hazy chirping of birds of a lazy Sunday morning, I lay here trying not to wake up too fast. And in that delicious world of memories old and newly created, I was back in Cambridge in my friend's back yard listening to him talk to his friend James Taylor. I knew James' sister from school, but only knew of him. Now, in that tween world, I realize he was on his way or just back from the White Album.

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