John remembers the ways of the Ohlone as he digs for oyster along the shore at Emeryville. Near his dead father’s old fishing shack stood Shellmound Park; a midden of many lifetimes. A mountain of crusty mollusk fused together rose 60 feet above San Francisco Bay with a dance pavilion atop its summit. The dance and the park died with the passage of prohibition in the 1920’s.
What a thoughtful and interesting piece. A most enjoyable read. Nicely done!
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Love the nostalgia in this. Great take on the prompt! 🙂
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