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  • I only have a part-time job, with a lousy wage. Far from being wealthy, I still feel like the richest one on my street. Nobody is waiting for me in the apartment I call mine, yet I always feel so very welcomed when I enter and I feel like I come home. Most part of my family is miles away, but the small part that is here fills me up with the special deal you only get from the people of your own blood. Old friends are not present, but as a gift, I have received new ones who make my days.

    And my days are so very, very fine. I have my routines, I have a life that is mine.

    On my street, I walk and I feel at home. I know the bumps in the road, where to avoid running my bike. I know the pavement and where to best take the turn. I hate and love the long, steep hill, that ends with yet another hill. I know where to have a peek at the pretty garden and where nature makes a big puddle when it rains.

    It's my street. It's my town.

    Right now, that's all I need.
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