A strange pitcure of Orin Day

So I took my camera down to the mouth of the river. Dead!, and half buried in the soft damp sand, near the famous pulpit, so named by the local fishing fraternity, for obvious reasons. You can stand in the rocks circular section, jutting out from the rest of the rock formation on the mouth of the rivers end, which spilled itself into the green gray sea swirling about in protest at the inclusion of the river, swelling its ranks, and discoloring its dark beauty. Sand and water were the fishes worst enemy, when mixed they soon clogged a fishes gills rendering the fish unconscious, lay a southern wright whale.

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