On [how the night makes] The River.

The Isère river by day.

Eva and I had grown weary of watching French television.
Jorge picked us (and the guitar) up about 11:30 p.m.

I've discovered that Grenoble is beautiful at night.
By day, my eyes are captivated by the mountains.
But at night, it's the rivers that capture my gaze.
Though polluted, they don't look so dirty in the moonlight.
The shadows of nearby buildings lit only by streetlights hide the graffiti covering the canal walls.

After squeezing through a fence to get closer to the powerful Isère river, we sat among tiny rocks and tried to brush away remnants of broken green glass.

Two ducks fought the heavy current in an attempt to join us where we sat.

A lightning show started to our right, just behind La Bastille.
There weren't any stars in view due to the clouds, but the storm ensured a bright sky.
Thunder boomed between chords from Eva's guitar.

We sang
in English
and Spanish.
We laughed. How thankful I am for the universal language that is laughter!
And we talked about God, as often seems to be the case these days.

Eventually, as I've found to be the norm here in Grenoble, the rain caused us to vacate our temporary strip of riverside property. Off to our beds we went, but the river never sleeps.