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I live these days on the banks of a river that was once called water flowing two ways. Or at least, favored lore claims that Native Americans named it so. At any moment the Hudson contains some proportion of both salt water and fresh, mingled north then south then north again by the ebb and flood of Atlantic tides. Right here is where I am. On these gentle, ancient banks, extravagant swag of hills still called mountains for what they were. . . . I know this to be a heart's place. . . . |
