Days gone by.

Take a hit from the blunt in the ashtray and hit the street. Street food fills my stomach or at least what I can stomach of it.

Take in the sound of the ocean crashing onto the shore. I'm pretty sure it's calling out to me. Calling the family for old time sakes.

Little bro killing it in Paris while moms up in Chicago cutting deals with the mobsters I grew up watching. Watch the time pass with a tear in my eye.

This little slice of heaven is just big enough to give me a little taste and much like my dreams it's not meant to last.