25.02.2026 | ccc#075

Between Water and Road

The river keeps its own secrets.
It slides past in brown silence,
carrying leaves, old conversations,
things that were once decided.

The path runs beside it,
firm but forgiving—
mud clinging to boots
like unfinished thoughts.

The railing does not choose sides.
It stands between movement and direction,
between what flows
and what walks away.

Two figures in the distance
are already smaller than they were.
That is how distance works—
it edits.

I walk slowly.
Not because I am tired,
but because some crossings
are not about reaching the end.

They are about noticing
how close the water is
to spilling into the road—

and how thin
the boundary really is.

— Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫