It’s a summer afternoon so hot the air shimmers and the river is a dwindling stream in which waterweed grows listless.
A woman scoops water from the river’s edge. The sun beats down on her hands, cupped to shelter her basin’s contents.
Under her caressing gaze, waterweed grows luxuriant. A tiny fish darts around the green, all unblinking eyes and brown scales.
The woman smiles and sets the basin down. She steps back.
Next moment a boy appears, buttocks trapped by the basin, hands tangled in waterweed. His blinking fish-eyes crinkle with petulance.
“Ma, how come you always find me?”
