There is a trickle of water in the highlands. The snow and rain give it life. It creeps and slings it’s way around rocks, logs, brush. It meets other trickles of water, it greets them and joins them as the descent down the mountain.

A canyon forms and the water pools. Bigger now, deeper, aged. It has weathered this canyon over time. When itz was fed snow, ice, and rain and swells to great size but ebbs back to the slow dark water where creatures lurk. It holds life within it. Brings life to all below it, it feeds, nurtures, cleans, all that it flows through.

The water turns to a creek, which meets other creeks on thier own journeys down from the highlands. They form forks of a larger river and they become counterparts to one another taking on the responsibility of thier mountains, valleys, wetlands, and all those that reside there.

There are beasts from afar with big pink bands, chrome and blue hues, some are silver, other dark, hooked jawed and toothed, some that still have the scent of salt faintly about them. There are small beings that never leave the forks or thier perspective valleys, only venturing to the highlands to pass on to the next generations. All giving thier life history back to the trickle that forms in the highlands.

The forks converge and form a single river. A river teeming with life, history, all past, present and future moving in one direction. The river swallows up all around it. Changes the course of the land it flows through, creates plains of fertile ground, gathers new beings to its edges and life abounds in all the places the river flows.

It meets other rivers as it tumbles, and rambles towards somewhere. They all bringing thier history with them. Some are boulder filled, churning ferocious fast moving rivers. Others large swaying and slow rivers lined by tall walls of stone. Some are blocked by great slabs of foreign rock and metal that bring life to places far from the banks of the flowing waters. Some are healthy and full of life, others have struggled on thier journey. All meet and come together.

They become one, starting from a single trickle of water to an immense column that shapes and effects everything near and far. A single direction towards something that always seems to be pulling each droplet of snow and rain back to it.

A large swatch of soaked earth, with winged beings that frequent the marshy wetlands that single the end of the journey from the highlands. The earth breaks and frees the waters in a final embrace. They meet every other river, drop of water or snow. The rivers dissapeared into one another forming great oceans. New and alien life resides, some venture to and from rivers, others are from far places only passing by. The ocean reaches depths that could swallow every mountain that has a trickle of water flowing from it. But would never be filled without each trickle.

Its starts with a trickle in the highlands.

Tamarack