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Write the magic of your childhood.

What is it that recalls childhood for you?  Marge Piercy said that one dab of childhood mud could set a story right. 

The following is from William Burroughs: Junky.

One morning in April, I woke up a little sick. I lay there looking at shadows on the white plaster ceiling. I remembered a long time ago when I lay in bed beside my mother, watching lights from the street move across the ceiling and down the walls. I felt the sharp nostalgia of train whistles, piano music down a city street, burning leaves . . . A mild  degree of junk sickness always brought me the magic of childhood. 


I feel nostalgic about train whistles, my mother playing the piano, and my father burning leaves in an old barrel out back by the alley.