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Weekly Contest #11
My feet take me back to the small world of my childhood. The gate bent and graffitied and the playground now small and drab. The plank is now a faded green with scratches of hearts of incomprehensible words and drawings. The fireman’s pole is scratched and small. The stairs and bridge you would run up and down sunken in since the last I’ve been here. The rubber tire turf is now torn up and replaced with sand and softer material. The soft material contrast with the playground bullies. The tall roof the older kids would climb and sit on. The ...
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