THE RIVER OF THOUGHT
Do not drink from the river, said the locals, and so you simply lean forward and watch. You can see your own curiosity reflected at you, a thousand pinpricks of memory lighting up the path. The river has eroded its shoreline and the bed stretches wide and flat. The weight of the thought is a moving thing, carving pathways into your neurons. You cannot see the other river bank.
What path will you carve for yourself in the days ahead?