Speaking of time rushing by, here is a picture of my brother and me on the patio of our house in Philadelphia.
I look like I have to go to the bathroom.
I was infamous for having to go to the bathroom.
My mother was fond of saying that I had been in every public restroom on the East Coast.
I wish I could tell what book is in Curt’s lap.
Both Curt and I loved books. We lived in them.
What story is he holding there?
Whatever it was, he was reading it to me.
I would like to hear it again.

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