I could hear the water moving and clearly it was lying. I knew it was daytime because of the sun and the bit of impromptu shadow puppetry performed by some old tree uncomfortable with the weight of its own extremity. I know this feeling. I do not know the type of tree. The cool river invited me here with my sackful of Chick-fil-a Waffle Fries; I should have suspected the trap. I smashed packets of ketchup against the gray rocks, imagining fantastic violences. I had come to the water with questions about transparency and they were not answered and so I let the river occupy my mind and my lungs and let it become my future. The fries needed that ketchup even more than I needed the river or the breath or the answers. It is not a balancing act. It is not enough to have nothing to hide.
// Clear Square Duffle