The constant gentle lapping of waves on sand, interrupted by a becoming of a high pitched whine of insects, like bandsaw on wood, joining the rumble of the motor boat that masks the yelps of the collapsing water skier, on top of the skipping sound as speed boat whines and bounces across the surface of the lake, the gentle lapping becomes a clapping, intermingled with the buzz of seaplanes whose flight path mimics that of a small bird, whilst tilting like a whale getting a better view of a passing boat. The crescendo falls and the lapping re-asserts itself for a time, only for it to arise anew. 

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