The river meanders along, following the trail of the red-yellow beams of the sun. It twists and turns, in the bustling metropolis, in the wake of steel and slumber. It flows with the indifference of a snake, with the stoic of a yoked cow in highway. Eyes closed, lips pressed and chin up, it flows. The turbid green colour hardly betrays the dance of its depths, the ferries on the surface hardly touching the electricity within. The mask serves its purpose. It pick up pretty nothings on the way: wrappers, hides,faeces, skeletons, soaps and colours. A mosaic that makes it an relic of the drama that has unfolded on the banks of his own benevolence. The river betrays not even the slightest snicker of an ironic smile.
But with fluorescent shadows of the sunset a new pattern emerges, a pattern that few are privileged to see…
The night envelopes the river like a lover on a sultry afternoon. It soothes, it caresses and it pampers: the river is transformed! The river waltz, it shines with the full moon on its brow. The river seduces the forests to come to her, its animals, the wildness. The beasts feed on the corpses of the metropolis, on the sprites of the day that waters carry. The river smarts with desires, desires that were submerged deep down, desires that could have only unfurled in the felicity of the anonymous night. The river moans, the river cries, the river smirks, the river collapses in the arms of the night!
The river. The same river.
