The charging river. I’m not sure why I watch it. Maybe it’s the ritual

of the rush, the sound, the cool water, the turns, and the little heap of

meanders, the way they come together to form a body I can admire to

pass the time. It’s something to do between boredom and excitement.

Surely there’s something better to do, though, than to appreciate a link of

stampeding water. Such as thinking? About what? About the image of

the cool river. A body of water whose first glance is too murky and whose last glance

is too clear, but whose many in-between glances are, like Ariel’s admiration of land,

full of wonder. King Triton appears irritated. He picks his trident up and swivels his eyes onto Sebastian that quivers before him, and then, after an unpleasant glare, reaches over and snatches him up. The villagers don’t understand the disruption of the ceremony. King Triton brings Sebastian close to his face and peers at him intently. Sebastian shivers in his huge hands, shakes violently actually, stuttering to explain the cause of Ariel’s absence, before the king sends him flying and toppling through the crowd. In a way it’s good that Ariel isn’t there. Better that she rest in her grave in her cove of treasures beyond the shipwreck, unaware of what has happened to her kingdom.