Old souls

And then, sometimes I see that not everything in my little borough has changed. The kids at my old middle school still dress for PE in the same shirt and shorts I have squirreled away on a shelf in the closet; still dance for their friends  nonsensically to the music only they can hear; still stand in clumps, arms folded across their chests in all their adolescent awkwardness; still yell mostly unclever epithets at each other, laughing from their guts, not knowing anything other than this, being 13 and not giving a shit, or giving way too many and trying to play it cool. Those shirts and those shorts, how I tugged at them myself only moments ago. The trappings change, constantly and severely, but then in a moment the old soul of Brooklyn is back like a flash of sun on an incredibly grey spring day.unnamed


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