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August 5, 2003
The spirits of the dead visit us more than we think. This morning, after I shower, I’m putting on my cloths. I open the top drawer, I put on bra and underwear, at the middle drawer, and I put on a slip. When I get to the drawer on the bottom, I notice that I’m leaning over in a position where I can touch my toes, or push off the edge of the lap pool to jump in for a swim. Muffled voices bounce off concrete walls “something meter dash.” voice trails off, and then the whistle. I don’t swim.