tsaphoto
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As I pulled off the highway it got louder, a deafening crescendo akin to a jet engine that punctuated my careful steps through brambles and rabbit shit. The cows, unseen but around the corner on the next ranch to the north, were screaming. As if to intentionally disturb the careful peace of oyster beds and slack winds laid out before me in the bay, they mooed in a rumbling concert of bass, baring their agitation like an unholy North Coast twist on Starling's folly.
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