“What about it?” she said, without opening her eyes. Her tanned legs were sticking out from her short dress; summer suited her.
Daisy hmmed a response.
“So every day it’s just about a different beast. It's like the gardener's broom. You know the old story, the gardener claims he’s had the same broom for forty years but he’s changed the head every two years, change the handle every five. I always think of the river as being a link to the past, but really it's the newest thing in the whole city. It would make a good riddle, what’s the oldest and the newest thing in the town?”
Daisy mmmmed lazily.
“Then again, I suppose the water cycle means this water might have been here before; run the same course as it were. It might be a constant visitor, a loyal tourist that comes back time and time again. But still, what’s here today, won’t be here tomorrow. Amazing isn't it?
There was silence.
“Hmmmrrr. What?” She pulled herself up and looked at me through squinted eyes.
“Were you sleeping?”
“Kind of. What were you saying?”
I looked at her and smiled. "Oh, nothing,"Maybe it was best that no one had heard.