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Noah was going to be late but so many things distracted us on our way down the fields to the river. We ran the last quarter-mile when we saw the steam of the train above the trees. When we got there, though, the track Noah needed hadn't been finished - it ended right in front of us in a snarl of untamed iron. We made our way down the narrow bank to speak to someone in charge. We had to jump over green sludgy water to the next concrete island. The big greasy man in overalls shouted over the clanging that we would have to wait a month, maybe two. Noah was frantic but there was nothing we could do so we turned to go home. I took pictures of a steamer ship doing a flipped-up nosedive in the river like a duck with its ass in the air.

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