Once upon a time, my family and I had a nice little house, in a quiet street. Somewhat like, you see in this picture. However, it all was taken away from us, like most things in my life. Ever since then we’ve been moving from apartment to apartment. Our expiration date for living in these places were two years or less. After that, it was on to the next. I’m pretty use to it by now, but I sometimes do wish I had a childhood home. A place where I grew up in lived in and came back to whenever I got home sick. I’ve never had childhood friends, a white picket fence or a pool in the backyard. When we did have a home, it was like the safest I’ve ever felt. There was no place like home, but after 4 years of that safe haven, that I grew to love as my own home was gone. Now they paved paradise and put up a parking lot (Literally!). I’ll never get that house back and I’ll probably never live in another one again. However, there are always the memories of what once was.
Piece of writing writing is also a excitement,
if you be familiar with after that you can write
if not it is complex to write.
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