Wandering on little walking paths around ancient bungalows and sandy beaches, I wondered what Florence had felt, a young woman on her honeymoon.
Here she was, in a place as different from Bushwick or Knickerbocker Village as the moon was from the earth. Married to a person as different from her secret lover as the ocean was to a desert.
How miserable she must have been, loving someone, but like this mermaid, far from where she belonged.
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