Bryan Messersmith

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Thanks to him, I had come to realize that there were doors and rooms in the house of my mind that had always been there, but had been boarded up. He’d kicked some of those doors open. I had peeked through, broken rules, walked down dark hallways. And the house, even in its mystery and darkness, was still my home, and surprisingly still felt like it.
To Shake the Sleeping Self: A Journey from Oregon to Patagonia, and a Quest for a Life with No Regret
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