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The river | by jonathanrperkins
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The river

As there was no other place to go he put on his boots and stepped off the back step. The wind was blowing in harsh gusts and the sweet smell of rain was riding it. He walked down a thin path to the right of a large barn, climbed a short hill and stood silent and still. Overhead hung dark turning masses and in front of him was the sea. A long dock stretched out into the water.

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Taken on January 2, 2008