The river breaks to channels, the channels to jets of racing water broken by rock after black rock to droplets flying in formation past the edge of the earth suspended their plummeting jostling, joining, streaming, and breaking again to droplets in the wind sideways, rising, swirling meeting other droplets rising form the pounding depth and drops of falling rain formed from the rising mist. There is no shadow in this valley of death where all is mist and nothing is remembered, where everything that falls must rise and fall again as mist on the camera lens. The best is like water. Water benefits all things and does not compete with them. Water dissolves barriers.
Water reaches out and covers the earth.
This is called the Way of the Web. In May the bombs blossom. The sweet aroma of gas fills the air. Saturday Night Six days shalt thou labor, till the long thin week becomes a broad and work is forgotten. For all our Saturdays have lighted fools their way to drunken beds, that our accidents may be fruitful and fill the earth.