Annotation to the book "The Previous Life of a Poet"
Sometimes these story's are difficult to write. Memories seem to fade a bit, they change over time and from person to person like a game of telephone. You remember that from when you were a child? You pass a sentence along from one person to the other and see how close it is to the original when it gets to the end. Of course being the little rascals we were some of us would change it just for fun. And we like to make ourselves look better than we were. Anyhow, Long ago in a land far far away there was a place we called Da Bronx. I grew up there and maybe you did too.
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