The old codger had his own world. He dug a basement and built a tall fence.But no matter how high it was, the fence could never rise above the kids'voices.The kids had another world. They talkin' crazy slang, rockin'drippy fits.Their tricks made heads spin, ears ring, knees go weak, and hearts race...The old codger, the kids, and the others - their worlds were completely different.Maybe, just maybe, there was still something in common.--Zaizhi Wang's Collection of Postmodern Tales
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