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paddling away from the carefully manicured picnic area and fake beach we round the bend and see the toppled skeleton of a tree in the water. a flock of birds launch at our unexpected intrusion their legs long and limp like dangling frogs as they beat their wings furiously. the sun light glitters off the murky depths like so many silent rain drops. as we journey on the brown clumps of algae with budding green heads breaking the the surface become thicker and more numerous until we are adrift in a field that slowly grows more stagnant and orange. it smells like something has died here, patches of water are dark like a film's negative.