Rebecca Mott

People regularly drown in the river, but for a stretch of time it seemed bizarrely frequent. Horrifying… Death still lacked proximity - sterile and haunting. I cannot say the same thing now. It is familiar, real, and infectiously painful. This isn’t to say that this particular place makes me think about death. But the river does.

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This moment is a crossroad, a meeting point for friendships long passed - void now during a time of isolation. I miss the magic of it all, passing through a portal into another realm where adventure could be found. Where the mountain looms above the road, endlessly extending into the clouds.