A boy goes to the river. He dances at the bank of it, allowing the water to gently crawl on his legs, pouring sand between his toes and running back. He loves the chill and the motony of it. He falls in love with the river and the way the orange sun fell behind it in the evenings. He wanted to swim. He wanted an intimate relationship with the river. To travel up and down its body, caress it through and through till he knew every detail of it and it's sweet scent. Yet he feared the river. He feared because he had heard tales of men who had gone in and never swarm out. Whom the river, in its beauty had taken away to unknown lands. He would look at the river and see it calm, sober and welcoming but at the thought of going in, the river roared. The boy feared the river and yet, he loved it.
I am that boy and you are the river.
