I lived near the railroad tracks and would run down to the railroad tracks when the trains would come because the passengers would wave and throw wrapped candies to the kids. It was a break from my poor boring life. I guess I had to have a strong imagination because life in a small town was boring at times and so making up stories in my head was my way of entertaining myself. At times, I felt like my spirit would tell me stories and I would meditate on them and judge the stories for weight and merit.
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