By Taylor Sisk
I’m bucking journalistic convention here. I’m insinuating myself into the narrative. I’m using the first-person singular. Daphne Athas inspired me.
Tucked away in the hills off South Greensboro Street, down a dirt path and across a wooden bridge over a creek, sits an old empty swimming pool. Dappling sunlight comes through the thick canopy of trees, and the echo of the chatter of Carrboro youth of years past is almost audible.