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199. Docks

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The arm of the crane jutted out like the claw of a monster crab. The smell of oil, salt and rotten wood filled the air and touched everything. At the jetty, there was a man selling soft drinks and peanuts. Men with fish scales on their foreheads and dry mud caking their boots stood in groups and smoked filter-less cigarettes. With my minnow net I picked up pieces of interesting trash from the brown, oil-glazed water. Bottle glass, a plastic hook and a rubber seal. I left them in the sun to dry and they soon lost their shine like dead fish.

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