Looking at the picture, you'd expect to see, feel, hear, and smell the water the wafts up from the water birds ascent. You'd expect the roar of the creature to vibrate within your ears and shake every cell of your body. You expect the whooping cry of the rider to relay an undertone of excitement within you as it soars above you, the rush of water that soaks you to the bone and runs through your clothes and leaves you laughing nervously.

You'd expect to be able to lean over just that hair's breath over the edge of the canyon and feel woozy at the drop bellow you. You'd expect the ground bellow you to crumble beneath your feet and to go tumbling into the stones and rapids below with a scream. The wind is blowing your hair into a mess, and the scream is vibrating through your throat as the creature turns with the rider. Curious about the sound before your vision fades into blue water.

You'd expect the water. Cold, harsh, unforgiving in its nature. The tug of the currents, the smash and pain of your body against the walls and stone spikes. The suffocation was driving you to panic and to flail uselessly like a rag-doll. The brief moments of breath when you surface, only to be dragged under before you can grab something to keep you floating.

You'd expect to be ripped from the water by talons. Sharp and physical despite the water. You'd expect the laughter from the rider, the warm sound rolling through your body and bringing a new shiver down your spine. The warmth of a human hand, and the surprising dryness of his skin. You'd expect the heat of the sun as the creature hauls both of you up into the sky. There's a question of your well-being, and the amused concern your companion has as you hack up the last of the water in your lungs, and send him a glare that leaves him laughing all over again. You'd expect the bird to screech again, and shake the walls of stone and vibrate through your very core. You'd expect the sound to make you dizzier than when you were in the rapids. But you don't get that feel, those emotions, that adventure you dream of.

Instead, there are cars. Loud and obnoxious as they pass you. The haunting smell of diesel and gas, burning away the fresh water scent your imagination created. The man and his friend have left, fawning a few blocks down over their picture, and you're left alone with the mural on the ground. The swirls of chalk creating the perfect adventure. The shuddering cold as the wind blows past you, harsh and unforgiving for your day dream.

A sense of glee fills you despite the harsh reality of it all. You had that adventure, and no one can take that away from you.