Slimy boulders, muddy waters small people in wait of small fishes; some throw their line impatiently, others leave the tools at their side; a few just sit, relax while drinking the scene of a small silvery thing flopping in the blue sky; movement of the arms, silence of the river smack in the middle of urban flows; nobody wants or tries to look for the time, the life flowing around them; they think of it as a momentary respite from the buffering eddies battering their own small life.
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