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The house I grew up in has piles of old, soft-edged bricks in the backyard and cottonwood snowdrifts in the street in June. It has a leaky basement full of little white drawers that hold nails and washers and sawdust and superballs. It has a plastic bag that's been stuck in a tree since 1992. It has radiators that clank like timpanis and painted windows that always stick open. It is an empty wooden box, lined with asbestos. It is a great place to watch a thunderstorm.

I grew up collecting cicada shells and sledding down a giant hill made out of garbage and listening to my dad play Van Halen on Saturday mornings. I grew up on pancakes with syrup and hotdogs cut up and dipped in ketchup, Jelly sandals and snow pants, camping trips and canned peaches. I grew up sleeping in the sun on the sidewalk with my head resting on the belly of a neighbor's dog. I grew up climbing mulberry trees and walking to school on flat land and swimming in a lake that might as well have been the ocean.

Prose by

Name
lizi breit
Location
chicago
Mini Bio
puppeteer, printmaker, animator, comic-doer, writer.
Web Presence
www.cargocollective.com/lizibreit

Picture by

Name
Andrea Brower
Location
Birdsboro, PA
Mini Bio
I'm passionate about art and music and couldn't imagine my life without either one.
Web Presence
www.andreabrowerdesign.com