As I look around my mother’s house, the pains of nostalgia grab me. The world has moved by so fast I often feel I havee been left behind. How can this new world of distraction make room for us?

I stumble upon a weathered radio in the corner. Warm feelings of family and love rush back to me. Why can’t it still be like this? Why must life crumble over time like the walls of this dusty house?

I’m the last of a lost generation. All I have left are memories, slowly fading like the music from an old radio.

old radio.jpg


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