The kind that drown in nostalgia and the kind that don't. The ones who bump over potholes big and small, and the ones who drive wholly off-road, on switchbacks, in an old Jeep Wrangler with no brakes. The neutrons, tucked in with the protons, all stable and shit in the center of the atom, and the electrons, negative charges swinging around, jumping off, never still.
Jeez, me and the metaphors...
Pete says no to nostalgia. I'm trying.
That is all.

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