She's one of my many rivers - the mistress I always come back to, whom I always meet in the same place. Especially this weir - I pass it every day I travel to UCD, and then again on the way home. I always pause for a moment on the return journey.
It's not beautiful in my eyes, but something draws me to it. I've seen the water clean and I've seen it muddy. I've seen the water so high the weir essentially wasn't there. I've seen men fishing in it, dogs swimming in it, children wading in it, teenagers drinking beside it. I even once saw a body being pulled from it. It's like a little piece of home - something solid, something familiar. It goes through the seasons, but the essence of it remains the same. The same curve, the same flow.
Heroclitus said that you can't step in the same river twice (and someone else proposed that you can't step in the same river once), but this weir has remained the same for as long as I can remember it.
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