We watch our farewells circle the carousels. Draw a distance, draw a border; it's just another barricade. With these connection rates, it's too easy to separate and every time I see you I'm convinced that your accent has changed. There is nothing in this distance that I fear because there is one thing that will draw us all back here: reunion souvenirs. I'm sorry that this border draws a line but I swear that I'll ignore it for the next time. I can't wait to calibrate all the things we find have changed since the last time when the distance wasn't greater than the connection that we had. It's too easy to separate when you've held us all back in 1968 (when you were standing on that beach). You always came at the worst times possible.