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“The kayak glides low in the water as you and your partner discover a mutual rhythm–right, left, repeat, your arms like firing pistons. The glistening head of a seal periscopes out of the water a hundred yards off your port as you pass farther into…
you set an alarm–Outdoor Recreation. Emerging from the cafeteria tray-drop, two days prior, you had scrawled your Hancock in the brackets of a sign-up sheet at the behest of the daily advertisers for Outdoor Rec. Kayaking, written in pink chalk on their board, had caught your eye: the concocted allure of the water, the Sound, the phenomenology of it all, swapped for the exhaustion and library-hours of your week? It had all sounded too appealing. So you joined. But now it’s Saturday, and nothing
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