She talks about the pavilions, painted white, that circle the shore. There was no Pearl River Reservoir in her youth and no Lake Hico. Neither of them brought in sand to make a beach anyway. It had to be Livingston late.
That happens a lot when people from here read Eudora Welty; they'll run across a bit that suddenly starts to sound familiar, and then a smile of recognition comes to the reader. "I know this place."
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