Unit 1: Identity and Purpose

Lily Wilson's Canada Trip Video

Katie Walthall

Snapshot Narrative (Journal Wednesday, July 27th)

Darlene Poluan
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The dog followed his master through the river. The river was very shallow except for several holes where people would dip themselves in to take a swim. He could walk on water, as it seemed. Gliding, prancing, observing. I wasn't swimming. I was sitting on the rocks with my feet in the water. I saw him coming towards me. I wasn't sure why. Maybe he was curious? But then, almost three feet away, he turned and approached another person. Perhaps he was no longer interested in me. His steps grew faster - pitter patter, pitter patter. He was interested in something, but I couldn't see it. What was it? When he got to it, he stopped to smell (whatever it was). Then he moved on. 

I didn't pay attention to him after a while. I was occupied with the kids, but sometimes I could smell him. His musty, wet dog smell. He looks almost like a world. He had different-colored eyes. One was a beautiful green, the other a ghost white. Perhaps a beauty that was haunting. He passed by me again...

He has been walking around and around, and he finally caught sight of me again. He walked towards me. This time, he fell into a swimming hole; this one wasn't that deep. It only went up to his chin. But you can tell - he was wet. Our eyes met and he continued to approach me. He came out of the water and stopped behind me. As if on cue, he shook to dry himself and I could feel every drop (of water) on my head, my back, my cheek. I was wet. And now, I smell like him. I looked back and, with no acknowledgement, he just walked away.