As I slowly walk through the jungle of a garden, the exact same feeling rushes down my spine. After all these years, I have the same curiosity I did before. As the sun beats down on the dry mud, and the pale shadows of the thin weeds curl into withered spirals, I can still remember Dad trying to get me to cut those awful plants...but to no avail! It's weird, walking down the path, knowing that it was once yours. When I look at the house, I still think that Mum is going to call me for dinner. It looks the same, it all looks the same. I can't let go of the feeling that this is a dream, and I'll wake up in the bed upstairs...and nothing will have happened, we would all be normal. But I doubt that will happen. When I go through the weeds to the garage, all I see is a half of the garage the rest is all a broken pile of wood. Yet, I find a little hole at the back. I need to remember it...him. Skellig. It's all so vague. The house. The garden. The Garage. The memories. I step into the dilapidated garage. Again, the whole thing is covered in dust. Bluebottles cover my hair. Cobwebs break on my skin. I see the tea chests. I close my eyes. It's all so clear. I come closer, closer and closer still. There I see where it...he used to lay. It's too much. I need to get out. I quickly rush back to the little whole in the back and step through it. The house, I need to see it quickly before I go. I rush to the doors at the back. I open it slowly. It's not locked so I go right in. I look round. It's the same...It's all the same. The hole is still there where that Ernie guy used to have his toilet. There is nowhere you can look where dust is not to be seen. I rush upstairs to my own room, but somehow I end up in Mum and Dad's. I see the little cot at the end of their bed. I can still feel the tender grip of the small had on my finger. I open my eyes. I then rush to my room. My room. My room was never much....