July 30, 2009

Mark Twain-ing it in Washington.

It was like a moment out of Tom Sawyer. Jumping from high into the deep pool of ice cold river. Swimming against the current so that it held you in the same place endlessly. Swooshing down the rock bed with the flow of the water. Slip-sliding on the rocks, mossy moss on your arches, heels and in between your toes.

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