Once upon a time, when all the cars were not air conditioned, and people would roll down the windows, they would see the world. The sights of the road would not slip past them. The rattle of the traffic, the bedecked long distance trucks would be looked at in wonder. The clatter of shop shutters rising, the aroma of the bread cooking, and the scent of a river that meets the sea.

All through its course, the river flows alone. When it nears the sea, it weaves forth mixing with it the scent of the sea. Brine and a thousand miles.