River plants live on the very edge of two worlds, their lives precariously balanced on a tight rope. A few centimetres farther and the water would drown them, a bit more rain and the river would gnaw at their roots and carry them away on the current, half a step more inland and the rocky banks would no longer provide enough moisture.

As summer comes to an end, their beauty is poised on the brink. Soon the rains will come, swelling the river and moving that line of transition between land and the watery world. Their short lived paradise and their miraculous little lives will end with the season and many months will go by before their children - if they were lucky enough to take root on the right spot, that magical place of transition - will bring it back.