In a past life, I think I lived sometime in the mid 1800s in England. I don’t know why, but the first time I got off a plane in London, I felt immediately at home. Everything looked vaguely familiar and I had an ache in my chest everywhere I went that felt like homesickness. Walking into a house or a building that is a few hundred years old always makes me catch my breath – one of my friends lives in a really old building in Edinburgh and I love the way the stone steps are worn in the middle from thousands of footsteps in that exact spot over hundreds of years. I’m particularly drawn to antiques from the mid-nineteenth century and can spend hours poring over photos from that time picking out little details. I also think I might have been a guy, but that’s another story altogether.
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