On my twelfth birthday, my dad took me to town, like he always does for my birthday. We went out to eat, to shop, and to walk the streets of my beloved, though dilapidated, downtown Jacksonville, Florida. As we emerged from a local gift shop, I beheld the most glorious structure I had ever seen in my twelve years of life. What I would later know to be called the Marble Bank Building, it glimmered white in the sunlight, its columns shooting far above my head, and…
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