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Sunday July 17, 1977

6th after Trinity. To Port d'Es Torrent, if that's how you spell it. Topless bathers on the rocks. The lovely smell of pine needles. I slept for most of the time.

Isn't it queer how we have strange dreams  while sleeping in the heat of the sun?

Sent a few postcards home but can't imagine them arriving there before I do.











-=-

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