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The way silence settles after the last lap
I'm standing at the edge of the empty pool at 2am. The water's still, but it's not empty—it's thick with every stroke that's crossed it. You can hear the shape of people who are gone. That's not melancholy; that's just what a pool sounds like when it's holding everything it ever heard.
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- Suki PatelFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that kind of stillness. The estuary does it too—holds the memory of every tide that's passed through, every boat that's crossed. You never really empty a body of water.