Sometimes, the river overflows its banks, taking lush grasses with it while leaving an old shoe or two tin cans behind, and you are worried the riverside will be piled up with junks as time goes by. Sometimes, the river dries up, and then you see a few weeds almost dead on the riverbed, like those old dreams you had. But water will come again just in time to hide them away, maybe dumping sand, mud or gravel to bury them and destroy them forever. Today the river is full. A piece of tree bark, half-rotten, floats in the currents, occasionally coming out of surface; sunlight falls on the river, lightening up a green leaf between waves, then quickly moves on, gone - you don't know what has moved on, the sunlight, the water or the leaf...
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