There are certain things in this life that feel inexplicably familiar:
The pad of my bare feet on my apartment's hardwood floor.
The breeze of the El train as it rushes by on the platform.
And the comfort I feel from watching an old black and white film.
Netflix has become an addiction as of late and through this addiction, I've found a new favorite film: It Happened One Night.
There's something about the strength and gumption of the female characters in the 1930's that sucks me right in.
Memories of a past life perhaps?
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