as I had been in such a reverie, I was having trouble clinging to Foot. The current seemed stronger than before, and I guessed we were in deeper water. It was really murky, and I couldn’t see every stone. Here I regret to say, I was not a good sandal. Foot slipped a few times, and on one of these slips, I lost my grip. I slid off, and the river grabbed me. I couldn’t see anything, and the river bottom sped by below me. I don’t know how long I floated. The river is always dark once one is looking down. I couldn’t count the suns. At times I bumped into rocks, into fallen trees, and finally, where I am now, a pile of brambles. Thankfully I am still in one piece and surprisingly upright, although I worry how Foot survived without me. I do not dream of rescue, but I do hope that it believes I tried to stay on. However much I dream, I fear I shall never know anything more than of what I remember of losing Foot and of where I now rest, forlorn yet free.
. .
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