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The dog days of August have barely just begun and I am already lamenting the passing of summer. There is a solid month left, plus most of September is nearly fit for swimming these days. Still, between work and other obligations, precious little time remains for weekend get-aways along a pristine river or hiding in deep forest shade. I desperately crave the water; my body aches to feel its calming caress, to hear its ageless song. A niche has to be carved out of time; requests for presence denied, everything else set aside. Damn it all. Damn it all and go down to the river. Somehow, some way, my soul will be restored.
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