MC 111 (2) - Home is Where the Heart is Before entering my...

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Home is Where the Heart is Before entering my hometown, I smelt noxious vapor, not the literal stink of pollution. Northwest winds drifted Zug Island toxins into the nostrils of anyone within a ten-mile radius; another seepage of tainted waste was produced—exclusively by Allen Park. Not a soul recognized the airborne filth. My friend’s immune, so immune to the waste they all contributed to its production. If a colossal magnifying glass were held over Allen Park, any observer with a decent set of morals will be revolted. This Godly perspective unmasks excessive, irrational behavior. Every adolescent ingrained for life with self-destructive habits—by middle school. Somewhere, comatose and lifeless from excess alcohol and pharmaceutical consumption a kid is face down basking in the warmth of his own vomit —regarded a right of passage, where I call home. The monitoring of one teenager is a microcosm of all their actions. Billows of smoke came out the chimneys where these parties transpired. The overhead view emerged as if an uncontrollable wildfire devoured
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MC 111 (2) - Home is Where the Heart is Before entering my...

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