Afret I’d awaken, and answered the call of Mu’ezzin, I heard a sound melodiously soothing, in a low tune which after every second continued to grow louder. As I listened, I became curious to have the band on my sight; my pinna became my pathfinder as it locates me to the pavement where it collects the sound.

Here I am, in the realm of nature, where beauty speaks in its natural lingua, giving food to its admirers, quenching the thirst of tourists with its unending river of juicy sight. I was welcomed by the serenade of Pinches and the morning voice of Robbins, which for its sweetness even England was found on an island.

My painful eyes were healed by the surrounding evergreen plantations: a mulch resembling bougainvillea, hay of cultivated crops, a group of gingerbread palm trees bough to send me morning greetings, I vouge in response and stare at the other side where growing crops were dancing to the lousy music of the morning artists.

A group of white birds surrounded where I sat, feasting on flies brought by decayed hays. A paddling fisherman sent them up with the sound of his canoe, slapping the still-sleeping-water. I waved at him back as he sent me hi with the palm of his hand.

Tiny flies buzzed on my head and wished they were seen by the food-hunting tits but they were luckily not, so I chased them away. Again, on the nectar of flowers, I saw bees sucking and vughs hoarding food beside where the bees mouth pick. Interestingly, they are all careless on what the other does, each oblivion by its morning business.

At the Riverside, there is so much to give the eye and thought.