At my old house, I used to have a strange neighbor. He had to be at least 75, and had this extremely thick accent from who knows where. He was also an avid gardener. I can remember kicking the soccer ball into his vegetable garden at least a thousand times. I can still remember the feeling of fright as I trampled on his plants, and the victory cry I would let out after safely retrieving the ball. It wasn't that my neighbor was mean or anything - he was just very weird. There were many times when I would look out my window and see him sitting pretzel-style in his garden, singing to his plants. I remember thinking he was senile or at least a clinically diagnosed weirdo. Now, I realize he may have just been a scientist.
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