One day you realize the cars of your youth are missing from the roads. That Volvo 122S you learned to drive on? Gone. Haven't seen one for years.
When we were young, we didn't know that everything we consumed would make us who we are, that the Dickinson, Tennyson, and Shaw would be more meaty in the long-run than Happy Days and the Brady Bunch, though those sugary concoctions would have their uses, mostly as anchors to a specific time and place and the people who inhabited them with us.
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