I love nostalgia; for it’s reassuring to know that, despite everything that’s seemingly wrong with our world, there are still places and people left out there who are worth missing.
I love nostalgia, even if we are homesick most for places we have never known. But doesn’t that also mean that there might just be something better than our now waiting for us out there?
And so I pack my bags, take a deep breath, and although I know I’ll forever be nostalgic for places I’m leaving, I step out and face the world.
I am not sure why, but it seems that as I age, I have grown more nostalgic. My fondest memories are of my home town and the days of my youth.
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I suppose the more memories you collect as you age, the more reasons you have to long for what’s gone?
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