First Love

Scott MacKenzie died yesterday, and so with him, a tiny piece of a tiny childhood. San Francisco was one of the first songs I remember listening to, lying on my purple carpet, on repeat. Wishing I was anywhere else – but chiefly in a commune in the Bay Area – as long as it wasn’t Gloucestershire, and the promise of school. Now all the song does is transport me back to the very place I dreamt I’d leave: to a house with a new family, to a room with a new carpet, to the same pool of sunlight that fell right by my stereo player.


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