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Tourism & Hospitality

Dear Duluth,

I miss you. When summer ends, and the tourists have gone home; when the sky washes out into a flat grey, I know you are still there, wind biting cheeks. My heart aches, thinking of all of those long lonesome nights as a teenager, waiting for the snow to melt, wishing to be anywhere else in the world. If only I had known that after mountains, and oceans, I'd still long for that hill, and that lake, and the stomping of boots at your door.