swim. swam. swum.
93 Fahrenheit? Dunk your head, yo.
The Quarry is an oasis in a state where few lakes exist that aren’t simply dammed rivers. Bodies of water in North Cackalak are a little too brownish and murky. I need the satisfaction of seeing my feet floating below me in green or black glassy water; but maybe that’s the New England snob in me talking.
The sharp and unpredictable patches of cold and warm water throughout the Quarry are contenders for the top 20 damn-fine things the world of senses has to offer. It’s like taking shots of whiskey while you’re swimming, randomly and seriatim.
It’s true, seeing the loss of the rope swing was sad, as was the park rangers kicking us out mid afternoon. Today my feet still feel like they are floating a little.
The Quarry is an oasis in a state where few lakes exist that aren’t simply dammed rivers. Bodies of water in North Cackalak are a little too brownish and murky. I need the satisfaction of seeing my feet floating below me in green or black glassy water; but maybe that’s the New England snob in me talking.
The sharp and unpredictable patches of cold and warm water throughout the Quarry are contenders for the top 20 damn-fine things the world of senses has to offer. It’s like taking shots of whiskey while you’re swimming, randomly and seriatim.
It’s true, seeing the loss of the rope swing was sad, as was the park rangers kicking us out mid afternoon. Today my feet still feel like they are floating a little.
posted by andrew s.yang at Tuesday, July 06, 2004
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