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Boston, you’re my home.
Boston, you are the closest thing I have ever had to a hometown. I love you. I love your people. I love your fierce, competitive spirit. I love your mercurial weather. I love your bizarre and frustrating public transportation system. I love your accent. I love your energy — the way intellectual curiosity, never-ending quest to improve the world, and insatiable cravings for alcoholic beverages vibrate through everyone and everything within the 617. I love that your area code and my birthday are the same. I love how flexible and welcoming you are to new residents from wildly different cultures at the beginning of each new school year, and how at the exact same time, you refuse to change. I love how your peoples’ response to an act of terror and intimidation is love and pride. I love that I came home just in time to be with my city, my friends, my people, on the holiest day of the year — a day that we refuse to let anyone taint, steal, or destroy. Boston, I love you.
Boston, I love you. Always and forever.