In winter she swam, cracking the ice on the surface and holding it up to the camera like a trophy, grinning through chattering teeth, a hat tight on her head.
In spring she swam, her toes wet from the dew on the grass before she even entered the water, the morning light warmer.
In summer she swam, staying out late into the evenings, waving to boat owners enjoying drinks on their decks.
It autumn she swam, moving leaves through the water, the occasional chill dusting her shoulders, the swans fattening for winter.
She swam every day, the river a home.
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