The Angle

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In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.

"The sign reads private road, 5 mph, as I make a quick left off the Ontario State Parkway and am welcomed by a sailboat mural marked Sandy Harbor Lane. My eyes run across the cluster of bird house mailboxes stalling on number 19--Riners. The pond on my left remains covered in a thick blanked of seaweed and cattails jut up through the water refusing to advance to dry ground. The smell of seaweed and the cool lake breeze attack me as I close my driver side door and advance to the back of the house. Awfully quiet, I think, the only sounds that touch my ears are the light waves and squawking seagulls awaiting their morning handout of week old bread."

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