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  • I leave my tent and walk along the road to the bike trail and along the bike trail to the pond. The trail passes through a small wood. The wet leaves that cling to the bike trail smell strongly of mocha. Dark chocolate, strong coffee. The air is sweet, warm and soft. Fish rise to the surface as if to eat small insects, and I wonder how they see them in the dark. They make little ripples that reflect the light of the amazingly bright gibbous moon. I sit on the shore of the pond, then walk and walk and walk through the dark night and the back woods. I never see another person.
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