He did not want to oppose his lawyer, but Clive knew the lawsuit loss was decisive. And he was not about to throw good money after bad. There would be no appeal. He had wanted the property for his factory. It would have been a glorious, green facility. It would have employed hundreds of locals. It would have been good for the economy. But alas. The site was too close to the estuary. Too close to the preserve. At least according to the local brand of conservationists. They protected what they called nature at all costs. Clive was concerned about nature and ecology too. He was a steward of the land. He always had been. But the lawsuit was not about conservation or stewardship. Not really. It had been about power and prestige and money. But the conservationists were wrong about Clive. He would not use his power and prestige and money for a new pitched battle to test their resolve as they suggested in their closing argument. Instead, he would find a new site where he could integrate his factory into the land and benefit the people. He would find a place where true stewardship could be practiced.

It seemed as if the entire town had turned out, filling the council chambers and spilling out onto the street, chattering in anticipation. It hadn’t been since the days of the war that the sleepy town of Mundurah had seen such turnout.

The crowd fell silent as the Mayor began to speak. Such a thing was unusual in itself, but this wasn’t a normal day.

“It is the decision of this council that bylaw 571, with regard to development planning, has received majority support and will come into effect. I know there is many of you who oppose this, but I ask that you try to look to the future and see the benefits - this town has a bigger, brighter future ahead of it and it isn’t going to be 1960 forever.”

The mayor was soon drowned out by boos and jeers, his voice faltering in front of the crowd. The decision had been made 5-4 - not exactly decisive, but in the end it didn’t matter. Bylaw 571 gave developers the go-ahead to build high-rise apartments along the town’s foreshore where for decades there had previously only been small holiday homes, and for the local estuary to be dredged and deepened to allow boats to enter.

There was those who opposed, those who continued to fight, the shared memories of endless days spent paddling in the estuary bed as youngsters, of feeling the salt on their skin still strong in their minds. Time would march on, progress would be assured, and own day those memories would be lost for good, covered over in estuary silt.

I don’t think we’ve ever seen eye to eye have we ? You watch thoughts rush out of my head and you oppose every single one of them. They’re not real. They’re just my brain without a blockage. My brain has an alleyway where it can connect to a vocal cord and create vibrations that allow it to be heard. I don’t think it’s my true opinions about half the things I speak about. But I am saying it; so it’s mine right ? It’s mine. If I break the rules with those words do I defend my wandering mine or do I sentence it to punishment. That sentence seems to be a decisive one the moment it leaves my fingers. Of course I’m punished. I’m punished because they hurt you. I didn’t mean to say them but I did so taken at that , it makes sense. All these thoughts flowing together it’s almost like an estuary of water. Just trying to mix. It will never mix right ? Well maybe it will but I’m on punishment right now so I won’t speak a peep. Tomorrow we can try again and we’ll see if we oppose each other again. I hope we see.

hey gang, (its Eva btw) I haven’t been on this app for a sec so u can imagine my surprise at these posts. gonna clear things up by saying that we wont not be talking for a while but indefinitely this is bc Kath cheated. I wasn’t too pressed abt that but waiting a month to tell me? kinda out of order icl.

like I didn’t want to write this but Kath how are you victimising urself? like it’s genuinely impressive how you’ve done that

your poor poor soul with ur sick to your stomach feelings like bro you did this to urself so don’t expect me to feel sorry for u

In many ways, life is like a river. In both, there are twists and turns. Like the dams of beavers and men there will be obstacles in life which oppose forward progress. Like the undertows and rapids of rivers, there may be times when life will feel tumultuous, but there will likely be peace on the other side, a lazy river of recovery. Rivers split into branches and streams and it is not always clear where they lead. Like life, rivers end, flowing into the estuary of infinity and the unknown. And so, like rivers, we must be decisive. Carving our own paths into the future. Through rock and dirt and strife we push forward. And we may get overwhelmed, our banks may not contain us and we flood. But we move forward.

There is a war out there in opposing the government The enemy has surrendered. They are making there just stand. This is the decisive victory. We must swiftly cross the estuary fight the enemy. They are entrenched on the other side. Mortar rounds hit the ground from above scattering shrapnel. A snipers bullet hit the ground grazing the grass. Wif of smoke dust in the wind Swimming below the water cloaked in darkness . Attack by stealth

“Who could oppose except for those with thumbs?” He was a strange man, one who talked cryptically in rhymes and riddles. But he cared. He truly cared, and he knew how to persuade… well, some people. Very important qualities for an activist. “This project could preserve so much biodiversity. So much life. What do we mean when we say life? Life is opening your eyes for the first time and seeing the true beauty of the world. You all haven’t yet been born. Save yourself by saving the estuary, and this beauty shall reveal itself to you,” he continued, more straight-forward this time. The panel of hoity-toity important people nodded along politely, only half-paying attention. They probably had heard a similar speech millions of times and hadn’t strayed from their plans, it was unlikely they would now. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Bailey,” one of the board members interjected. “We will… consider your proposals.” He was desperate now. “I understand the want to be quickly decisive and strong-minded on such subjects regarding your projects, however I implore you to think. I will leave you with this: If your path is careless and irresponsible, your children’s children might never know what nature is beyond what is on a screen. They will never hear a bird call or roll down a grassy knoll. They won’t get the chance to climb a tree. They won’t be able to go outside and just _breathe. _Can you imagine that, Ms. Levithy? Can you imagine being cooped up inside, under cold, white lighting for your whole life because your grandparents sentenced you to this prison? It’s not too late to stop the project. It’s not too late to save the estuary. It’s not too late to hear the laughter of frolicking children in the fields as you grow old. Don’t make it be too late. It’s your choice. Will you regret which way you lean?” The mood in the room grew solemn. It seemed he had gotten through to them. “Thank you for your consideration. That will be all.” He collected his things and turned to go, his nicest shoes, weathered and worn, clicking on the linoleum as he shuffled towards the door.

Will didn’t oppose the idea of treading the land all day but once they reached the estuary it became clear they were running out of land to tread. His fellow traveler, an older man by the name of Mort wore a decisive look on his face as he felt around the land. Will watched Mort head over to a large pile of rocks. Once there, Mort touched upon them and Will stared on full of regret.

He’d given up everything because he believed the old man’s ramblings but what if everyone was right and he was stuck following a mad man? After touching one particular rock, Mort let out an excited cry.

“What? What did you find?” Will asked.

Mort didn’t reply instead the sound of something rising from the water filled both their ears. Will looked over at the estuary, a large metal building rose from the water. Will’s mouth dropped, staring at the rising building with both terror and fascination.

Once it finished rising, Mort walked over to the building entrance which held a hand scanner to the side of the door.

Scanning his hand, the door opened. Mort looked at Will expectantly.

“Well, are you coming?”

When forces oppose, it’s good to be decisive. The estuary of human experience: one grew up fighting, one grew up loving. When they collide, can their stories blend? Or is it better to build a dam? A decision that requires totality, or one may end up having dammed in the other. A single touch and their fresh water becomes forever salted.

We ran aground when we hit the estuary. Captain Mead’s eyes widened as the ship crashed into the shallow rocks at the mouth of the river. I turned away to hide my disdain.

I had opposed the decision to head north, but he had overruled me. He was stubborn, and his pride had now left us all stranded at god knows where. I had tried to get the crew on my side before we departed Port Nolte. I had explained to them that we had to travel east to make it to the fortress in time to save the others. But they argued amongst themselves for too long. It seemed me and Captain Mead were the only decisive ones aboard this ship, and he was the one at the helm. At least for now.