"It was the first time that an oil drum had washed up on the scattered pebbles of the island shore. Other items had arrived over the years--ragged shirts, bits of rope, . . . There had been bodies, too, as there was today. The length of it stretched out beside the drum, one hand reaching forward as though to indicate that they had made the journey together and did not now wish to be parted."

-- Karen Jennings, _An Island_

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