Does something ever just strike you as so familiar that something deep inside stirs, begging to tell you the whole story, and yet you can't place it?

I think I figured out part I, but II is still lost somewhere in my subconscious.
--
The hallway I stare down reminds me that life can be {almost} enchanted afterall.

In that precious small town, the train whistle spoke to me when I needed it the most. The shrill assurance of possiblity was always a welcome sound; its promises lifted my spirits every chance it had. There was never any motive for empty lies. The feeling of honesty and hope is a favorite pastime in memories recalled; worth falling in love with over and over.