Pouch of salt crystals
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Great marble beaches. Crystal hills as tall as the Myr house of light. The air, so dry that I felt parched, even though we were right by the water. The sun, blasting down on the tan backs of the salt farmers as they dragged their marble spoils from the cobalt Casso Inlet. My dinner, salted fish. I could not help but ponder, the origin of the crystals we eat.
Union Leader Dalpina
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Casso Inlet
