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On Floods and What We Saved

Michele Weldon | August 2, 2010

As I stood on the second stair where the water began, I could see that this glistening, moving darkness was not in this corner or that, but everywhere. Deep and foul-smelling, the water moved silently until a plastic trash can tipped over or something else on a low surface upended and fell with a splash. It was still raining hard outside, but there was nothing to do until morning. Without power, it was useless to start cleaning it all up.