Water flows under a deserted bridge. Once the palpitating
heart of some forgotten city, it is now nervously crept over
only by ducklings. It is a quiet scene; frogs leap over lily
pads, devouring floating black dots

with which the scene is densely populated. Dragonflies and
moss-- these are old friends. They make an impression,
though subtle. Are you listening? Dragonflies and moss;
the voice of Narcissus; an outbreak of young men

falling into rivers. A bridge walked upon only by
ducklings, anxiously following mother ducks. A quiet
scene, the air misty, the sky blackened with rainclouds.