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A short ending

There is street sweeping on Thursday mornings. Parking on Wednesday nights at 10pm necessitates strategy and walking. Last night I had the pleasure of walking by a house filled with college students. College houses have a distinct quirky cheapness to them. This one still had its Christmas tree. It is January 20th. In this house that is painted deep green and purple, the colors of an eggplant, there was band practice. As I was walking past, the song they were practicing came to a climax as all the horns played in a beautiful clatter. I looked desperately into the windows wanting to make eye contact with those responsible for the noise. The mismatched curtains were drawn. All I could see was a head of moppy brown curls. But my imagination went to the recording studio of Bob Dylan. And I wondered if these college students expected to change the world one day. I hope they entertained the thought for at least a moment. I think they could.


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