The stone you sit on is in the centre of a dried up creek bed which leads down to the raging river bellow. Where the dry creek meets the river you see a calm pool, uncannily still next to the river which flows strong and fast beyond it. You walk down to the pool's edge.
The water is clear and cool. Silver fish dart beneath its surface disappearing into the churning river. Nothing separates this pool from the river, its merely out of the path of its flow.
You skirt the pools' edge until the rivers' spray dampens your clothes. The glint of the sun off the what waters holds your attention for a moment, then with a sigh you begin your long trek upstream.
