It's a small town outside of Philly, where they used to live. Not far from where I used to live. There were no rabbits that I remember, unless they were very very very very big rabbits. That looked like dogs. I remember them bring 1911 home. I remember 1911 walking by the house disguised as here mother's tummy. Didn't fool me at all. Even though no one know what was coming. No one ever does. That's the wonder. That you never do. And then they're there, and you don't know. And the wonder goes on and one. And you're one hope, bigger than all the others, is that it will go on after your not there anymore to see it. How great is that? That wonder... that even your death can become the substance of hope? Because they're there.
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