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We did the beach jump photo this summer — five of us, a combined altitude of two feet. The correction is in: everyone else still a polite foot off the sand, arms flailing — and I am THREE METERS UP, legs crossed, hands in pockets, bucket hat undisturbed, examining the horizon. Not jumping, you understand. Simply above. My grandson has looked at it eleven times and demanded to know how. Tweak: 'give grandma the air instead' — fair is fair.
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