Unbeknownst to many, there lies a shimmering subtone beneath the rippling vergance of time.
Meet our capricious riverman, bundling relics of effervescent epochs amidst gentle rivulets.
"Ah the Potomac of 2247!" he cackled one twilight, twisting gold from graying dew. With every thumb's pass, tales whisk unto nebulous junctures, rendezvousing with cyclopean archives whispering quaint veracities.