Stop and write about “If the water were to vanish” if you wish. Or you could [[a mind to meander|go back to where the river begins]]. ---- I miss the woods and fields. I miss the air. I miss the water. I miss the rocks and the sparks cast off them by kinetic energy provided by yours truly & friends. Friends. Time is ticking away. Even the pollution is polluted. The month of the werewolf. The werewolf shows us around the castle, which is actually a house, an [[impossibly big rambling empty house]], [[bigger on the inside than on the outside]]; the entire ground floor has been converted into some kind of illogical art gallery. We follow the werewolf by smell. The werewolf smells like the best perfume you’ve ever smelled; all innocence and wickedness, freshness and mischief! How you want the werewolf never to leave, never to have left in the first place (although she always does; although he always will have...).