If you cut free and cast your fate to the seasons you may run aground and be forever becalmed among the willows and reeds. Pleasant enough in summer but what of autumn, what of winter?
A little dock and a shed for the harbourmaster, a toytown gate and a place to sit down.
Or could you build, outlandish and patchwork, with a rickety fence to keep the floodwaters at bay?
But in the end all will return to the rolling river. Floods will wash away the vain, impermanent and eccentric and return everything once more to green, rampant vegetation and the ever-flowing waters. A place for nature alone...
....and, of course, fishermen.