Rhine Falls, Switzerland

I ask about the Rock.
The man at the dock shakes his head.
“Nein.” His finger sways side to side—
as if the river itself were refusing.

“No boat will dock at the Rock today. Dangerous. But the boatman dares the edge.”

So I walk.
Up the path.
To the overlook.
To the edge.

The roar never fades—older than language, louder than thought.

Below, the rock stands unmoved,
its summit stairs hanging silent.
Mist beads on my wristwatch.

I lift my camera. Zoom in.

A boat dares the edge.