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The air is heavy with thunder and the promise of rain, and the river is full of ghosts tonight.

That's what it felt like this entry was going to be about. The first hour or two were hopeless. I was distracted, fishing automatically, unable to get comfortable, put off by other anglers, couldn't park by the bridge, bitch, bitch, bitch...
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That's Why I'm Here

Always, back to the river then. Those with even a passing acquaintance with the calendar will notice that I've not actually fished - float in the water, ledger up a tree - since last August. There have been mitigating circumstances. My mind has been elsewhere, my spirits low...

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