The dam burst from El Nino's downpour. Rapids swelled like a rush of oil to the piston. The green boat soared with buoyancy off the sunburnt flanks, blasted down the darma hall of unparalleled vastness, angled skyward to defy the sirens of vertigo. Through the canyon it maneuvered in record time, manned by a maniac who spoke to spirits that certified immunity from death. In danger he found peace, losing himself in endurance the way distance runners conquer mountains. His victory was the canon, grandest of them all, seventh wonder of the world that bejewelled the west, last in a series of unpolished trophies.
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