Apple announces 15 new games on Arcade gaming service
Tech giant Apple on Wednesday announced to add 15 new games on its gaming service Apple Arcade.
There’s an old saying: no person can dip his toe in the same river twice. It’s never the same river. Nor the same person.
There is a profound truth in this. I am not who I was as a five-year-old or even a twenty-five-year-old, and not even quite who I was yesterday. In the same way, a river’s water rushes constantly toward the sea, replaced constantly by fresh supplies from its source, perhaps hundreds of miles away.
And yet, I am also very much a continuous entity, as I’ve always been. The five-year-old lives on in me by virtue of everything she loved, learned and imagined. The imprints of memory on her mind are still etched in mine. Some form of her body is retained as mine, although all its cells have grown and aged–many have sloughed off and been replaced–in a way almost unrecognizable distinct from hers. Almost.
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A river has a similar story. Every drop of water in it is perpetually renewed. The soil on its bed is washed away and rebuilt. Yet the course retains its continuity. In a very real sense, it certainly is the same river.
Speaking of continuity, I am sometimes awestruck by the rivers that flow through human settlements. I caught myself once casually thinking about one of the rivers of New York City as a feature of the city. The thought stopped me in my tracks. There it lies, among the buildings, bridges, highways, and promenades that have grown up all around it, almost engulfed in the swirl of humans and all the artifice of their making, just another shimmering jewel in this bejewelled city. But how odd to perceive it that way! The river, unlike everything else that I see as part of the city’s structure, is NOT a thing of our making. It is primeval. It has been flowing for thousands of years. It is not a feature of my city. My city, in all its glory, is just a transient bit of glitter that has briefly arisen around its banks and will shortly fall away, just as any bit of driftwood that rolls out to sea.
The author is an attorney, writer and editor based in Manhattan, New York.
(Photographs by the author)
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