Somewhere in the clutter of our hearts, among the shovels and brooms, the empty cardboard boxes and extra pane of glass, somewhere deep inside we love our country. Not our politicians, not our foreign policy, not our taxes. The place is a mess, and yet... We love our land, our people. Our country.
Once every four years, we get out the brooms, the shovels and rakes. We try to clean up the place. That time is now.
(You can click on the photo to make it larger.)
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