I see this girl rowing her boat in the bay a lot. She lives on a larger boat, perfectly clean, with pretty red flags that catch and fling the wind to the shore and back. I wonder what it would be like to have the city behind you and the water all around every day. The rippling, magic water glistening as the city propped, crackling with bitumen, rises.
How does she do it in this city where people are pushed and pushed to acquire property; where they are pulled beneath the ground by debt and heartbreak? What must it be like to be a free spirit with the sights of the city as your backdrop? Knowing what we all know? Does it take an endless supply of courage or the highest form of independent thinking?
When I see the girl on the water, her oars gentle as waterlilies, I feel a kind of soaring that is half laughter, half tears. And I also feel anything is possible.