The first day was agony. Lena sat by the same river, but without her camera, she felt naked. She tried to sketch an otter. The result was a smudged, clumsy mess. She left the page under a rock. A sudden gust of wind tore it away, and she watched it tumble into the rapids. She felt a pang of loss, then a strange, bubbling laugh. The river was her first critic.
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