Saturday, September 23, 2006
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When I was a little kid, I used to spend time in Eastern North Carolina on my grandparents farm. There was a sandy road that I walked to my cousins' house. On that road was an old, faded, sign that read "Snipper Snapper Hole". I don't know why, but I just love the sound of that. I guess it is in the percussion of the words and in the memories they hold.
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