000002 #human Contrast with the boy who is talking now with these other people who just walked up. This one has a charcoal grey felt coat that in itself is a statement of disaffection. He leans forward, his shoulders lean forward, he is a collapsing flower, black and delicate. His eyebrows are sharp, his smile flashes like a pocketknife, his sideways eyes say "disappear." And he will. They all will, of course, as will I. As I already might have. He is gentler than he looks. And sturdier than he looks. I wish him luck, the luck of the stick thrown in the creek. Maybe he won't jam up in the barbed wire or the tree root mess. Maybe he won't circle around and stagnate. Maybe he'll rush between the contoured rocks that form the little waterfall, and plunge, plunge! taking our wholesome imagination with him on the journey. The journey. I wish him luck. I wish us all luck.