The boredom, the slowness of time the river affords creaks in the trees, foams in eddys, crackles and taps it's wings against the surface of the water and removes all concerns one might have about their "aliveness". Fluvial you make your way, as if through the arteries of some great spiritual body, crooked, stuttering, quiet and somewhat bored, in the slowness of things you make it, thoughtfully.
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