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On the farm where I grew up my grandpa had an old silo where he would store stinky silage (mashed up, fermented corn husks). After he died the silo sat empty for years and us kids would play in it (sounds gross I know). If you stood on the ladder and leaned into it, when you hollered, your voice would echo back to you, just like in the Grand Canyon. Right now I am sticking my head into an imaginary silo and am shouting: "I ECHO ALL THE ABOVE!!! MICHAEL IS FAIRLY FABULOUS!!"



Cindy