Naiad

You can’t step in the same river twice. Actually, there’s not really a river at all. The river is not so much an “object” as a process that can be touched.

Here I am, a river. I love my boundaries and so I carry them loosely, as we all do with the things we love. In a certain way, we let them carry us. They are the banks and the bed, giving shape to our abstraction.

And how about you? Are you at home in this world of contingency? Who will you be by the time you finish this passage?

How does it feel to be an abstraction?