Last month, I visited one of my old neighborhoods in New York. I had not been there for twenty years and as I walked along the street, my mind was 1 by memories of the past. I saw the old 2 building where I had lived and the playground where I had played. As I viewed these once 3surroundings, images of myself as a child there4 However, what I saw and what I remembered were not the same. I 5realized that the best memories were those kept6
My old apartment building, as I remember, was bright and alive. It was more than just a place to live. It was a movie house, a space station, or whatever my young mind could 7 I would steal away with my friends and play in the 8This was always exciting because it was so cool and dark, and there were so many things there to 9among. There was a small river in the back of the building. We would go there to lie in the shade of trees and enjoy ourselves.
However, what I saw was 10different. The apartment building was now in bad11What was once more than a place to live in looked hardly worth 12in. The windows were all 13The once clean walls were covered with dirty 14The river was hardly recognizable. The water was polluted and the trees and flowers were all 15The once sweet-smelling river now smelled16It was really heartbreaking to17all this.
I do not18having seen my old neighborhood. However, I do not think my 19 childhood memories can ever be the same. I suppose it is20when they say, “You can never go home again.”
