WEBVTT

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"Wood.

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Salt. Tin."

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"Little soul, do you remember?

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You once walked
over wooden boards

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to a house that sat
on stilts in the sea.

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It was early.

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The sun painted
brightness onto the water,

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and wherever you sat, that
path led directly to you.

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Some mornings, the sea road
was muted, scratched tin.

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Some mornings, blinding.

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Then it would leave.

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Little soul, it is strange.

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Even now, it is early."

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