Rocks keep me afloat, or draw me toward the river's Sirens singing: "Bird flight, stone flight, a thousand deserted routes." Here's the length of our existence: It's a world of pain and possibility, creativity and destruction, innovation, and the worst excesses of leftover habit and power. Leaning into a bend, I saw painted on the windward side of a boulder a fish, swimming backwards. The next step may be a sudden fall, or a leaf blown off its course.

 

 

Bird flight: P. Celan. From, "All Souls." M. Hanberger, trans.
It is a world: S. J. Jackson, “Rethinking Repair.” In, T. Gillespie, P. Boczkowski, and K. Foot, eds. Media Technologies: Essays on Communication, Materiality and Society. Cambridge, MA., 2014.