Colonization - or is it exploration? - moves from the coast upriver, rumour into reality. Heralded by stormclouds, is this a harbinger of doom, or architect of change? A rising tide to lift all boats, or bearer of bad tidings?
What of the Peregrine Man? He has no sail, no oars, sits dead in the water, about to be engulfed. With no means of control, he is at the mercy of the storm, his vessel and umbrella hopelessly inadequate in the face of this impending pandemonium.
And yet, he is calm - does he know something we don’t? Is this to be a storm in a teacup? Or is it simply the equanimity of a man who knows that every action (even inaction) brings risk, every risk brings change, and every change requires evolution. Worry about the things you can change, hang on tight and ride the waves of those you can’t.