Where The Rutabaga River Comes To Die

The Rutabaga River is the only river and it is not even a river. It is a stream. It drains in, I believe, three tributaries from the north of the island into the single river which meanders its way across the flat terrain of Soybean Island. I also believe it is borne of spring-fed lakes. I do know that by the time it reaches Ste Abattoir des Chevres Pres de la Mer--and eventually the sea--it is called Acequia de Colinabos. But, when this iconic waterway (and I mean iconic in the most ironically demeaning way possible) reaches the metropolis (and I also mean this in a very deprecating manner) of Soybean island City, it disappears.

I do not know if the above moving image is viewable . . .


The spot chosen by the powers-that-be (The Apparatus) to devour said fresh water is not without its small-time charms:

Especially on a day with green grass and blue skies. (Sky, the singular, really should be used, unless you live on a planet with more than one sky--which I can't quite fathom how that would work.)

But there are--of course--also many images of abuse and control:

Yes.

Even the small trees are treated as prisoners here:

I do not know what the above sapling did, but it must have been quite unlawful.


Here is the most famous bridge in the city--on the whole island, most likely . . .

Ladies and gentlemen, The Bridge of Beans:

Indeed.

And The Tunnel Of The Unloved:

I know not the origin of its name.

But what views of Soybean Island City from atop the tunnel!:

And what a lovely life this barren and forcefully planted young tree must have living next to an actual manmade waterfall:

All day long it hears splash splash splash, gurgle gurgle gurgle, spill spill spill.

Exciting!

Nonetheless, the Rutabaga River comes in--

--pools in its pre-dug pool and then is sucked under--

To be drank and cooked and bathed and flushed with.

And you are left with this:

Ah yes. And this:

The wonders of nature . . .

Perhaps I'm being a bit unfair. Pessimistic. Glass a smidgin full and all empty. Let's have another quick look:

Perhaps, perhaps not.

Well, there's this anyway, if it gets past the myriad image censors of The Apparatus--

One never knows what you will find on Soybean Island. But one does know that it can find you.

Therefore, until next time, if there is a next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

      #1957