Here, there’s the place where she drowned in the fountain; remember the thrashing display? Caught like a fish in a net by her gauze and her lace, the humidity of the long, long day
No, there was no time for soliloquizing or accounting for all of her findings. Only a gasp, as of a thing returned to sea, finally
Surrounded by fat coi placidly gazing at her plight, her hair swum in the water til day became night, and on the inevitable next morning
How peculiar the townfolk found it to see nothing but coins, a silver heap, all pressed with the countenances of gardenias
And an ethereal hum filled the clean air of the coast.