A river flows past the castle, all green water moving--shifting surfaces at geometric angles catching and casting light. The castle stares down at the rapscallion water in disapproval at its capricious play. Water takes no responsibility for what it carries or where. Water shrinks identity, single drops brief instants of definition, merging back into the flow, escaping detection.

Stone, rock, that's different, each unit straight-edged with self-conscious limits. The castle sits heavy and ponderous, self-righteous, purposeful--mullioned and porticoed--confident of its identity." Solid is better, "says the castle, solid and stable and unmoving. Many-paned windows eye the passing water with only the occasional flicker of reflection of this foreign element, this unstable and rebellious vagabond.

 "Look at me," commands the castle. "Look and learn," it intones, as the earth beneath it slowly sinks beneath the weight.

The water looks, giggles, and keeps on going.