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June 7, 2009
The river valley is deep, unnatural, concrete look to the walls. Green hills tower over us, catching the setting sun. If it were still out and there were no wind nothing would stop me from jumping into that crystal-clear, blue basin and gasping from the cold. I play with pebbles instead, sandy and wonderful to the touch, put them against my lips and rub them in my hands until they're all dry and soft. On the way back we stop in the middle of the dark road to watch the moon be born from behind the mountains, enormous, bright.