[A couple of inkspots appear on the page, as if the owner of the journal is pondering what to write. Then a short pause, and it switches over to voice. Or perhaps "voice." After a minute of nothing but the wind and the faint sound of the river, the entry is cut off by the sound of the journal closing
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Are you down at the lake?
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Any of what?
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(The comment has been removed)
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I am carving a flute.
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It is merely a flute.
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