The River’s vestments The River was no longer bound by walls or metropolises. It surged across abysses, flowing through dreams, whispers, and gestures. In Brazil, a fisher looked up from his nets and set up helical busts etched into the escarpments by swells. In Kenya, elders told stories with hand movements that suddenly matched patterns children were formerly drawing in the beach. In Istanbul, shopkeepers hummed the same air without ever hearing it ahead. The helical had come a language without borders. But Horizon knew this growth came with peril. The further people awakened, the further noise Fragmentation poured

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