At low tide, we'd often venture out to explore the old suburbs' muddy ruins. Once, high tide trapped us in an attic. Parents were Not amused
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Now, when I return, the Sea covers all, our childhoods washed away, only coordinates and pictures left, that and all sorts of toxic waste
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When the city hall still stood, we often paddled out to it and stayed there for days, diving for basement treasures at day and dancing around our driftwood fire at night