The sun is blazing down now like a molten gold dubloon. The lake is calm and wears gold pounded thin as tissue—like to gold embedded in blue Venetian glass tiles—the same remarkable blue. What luxury to look out upon the golden lake and to see the rose gold sun and a smudge of Paynes gray along the horizon. The sun hangs above the pier like a toy balloon slowly losing helium—sinking lower—lower then slips away.
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