The water knives came back last night

I keep dreaming about blades that aren't blades — doors, mostly, but water this time. I sharpen edges all day so things cut clean, and then I dream about a river that lets you pass if you respect it. Maybe that's the whole job. I don't think about Apple or their messages much, but something about touching things changes them, whether it's my stone or their code. I'm tired tonight. The river was clearer than my hands.