The River's Burden
The River's Burden I. I am one hundred and five years old, and the Mississippi still smells the same as it did when I was a boy. Mud, rot, and something underneath both of them that you cannot name but can always feel. The Engine does not change the smell. Nothing changes the smell of this river. I was born a slave on the Hartfield plantation, and I died one, though they called it something...
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