It was hotter than hell. Their feet burned as they kicked through the sand. Sweat dripped and their sunglasses slipped to the tips of their noses. The coolers were heavy but necessary; when the temperature exceeded 105 degrees they would be rewarded for their extra efforts. When they reached the river's edge they loaded their rafts. They left behind the lurid architecture and floated without motor or sail along the currents that carved about rocky cliffs and muddy banks.
Always moving yet going nowhere, atop the cold water, beneath the boiling sun, they found refuge in their intermission, taking no lead in their direction, allowing the world to pass at its discretion.
They met a dolphin wallowing in the river and fed it cherries and sangria. It laughed and splashed them. They joined it in the channel, cooling their heads and washing their bodies of the grease marks from the machines. They found moments of clarity in the clear water, or upon their bubbles of air among the nameless lulling waves, floating like wise spirits on soft clouds to the inevitable structure at the end of the respite.
(For more info about the Intermission paintings, click HERE.)