Dear August,
Home is supposedly where the heart is.
My heart is in the smell of Maxwell House's factory in the morning. It is in the view of the mountains from my living room window. It is in skyscrapers. It is in fields of cattle. It is in the sun-kissed faces of my family at the beach. It is in the frostbitten cheeks and the snow-drenched hair of my friends in the winter. It is in Chamblin's Bookmine. It is in the fifth floor of the Harold B. Lee Library.
It is in the green of Savannah. It is in the chill of Seattle. It is in the history of Biltmore Estate. It is with a mouse named Mickey.
If my heart is in so many places, I'm gonna have a lot of mortgages to pay off.
(Please think that was witty.)
Love,
Jazmin
Home is supposedly where the heart is.
My heart is in the smell of Maxwell House's factory in the morning. It is in the view of the mountains from my living room window. It is in skyscrapers. It is in fields of cattle. It is in the sun-kissed faces of my family at the beach. It is in the frostbitten cheeks and the snow-drenched hair of my friends in the winter. It is in Chamblin's Bookmine. It is in the fifth floor of the Harold B. Lee Library.
It is in the green of Savannah. It is in the chill of Seattle. It is in the history of Biltmore Estate. It is with a mouse named Mickey.
If my heart is in so many places, I'm gonna have a lot of mortgages to pay off.
(Please think that was witty.)
Love,
Jazmin
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