I was walking over a bridge that spanned the Androscoggin River when I heard a voice calling to me. I looked around but saw no one and was about to continue on my way when I heard it again. Clearly, it was calling to me and even stranger, it knew my name. "You cannot contain me," it said, "I am free." But still I saw no one. I paused and looked over the bridge. The water is so swollen this time of year, and it came rushing over the dam, which was completely overwhelmed. It swirled violently in eddies and pools, savagely ripping past the shore. It is a dangerous time of year here, and the threat of flood looms on the horizon always. "You cannot contain me; I am free." Again I heard it, and again I saw no one. The sun seemed to shrink away from the violent current, and no water bird dared to tread that water. More and more, it poured over the the dam, creating a savage waterfall and spraying mist everywhere the eye could see. As the mountains and hills release the water they have held all winter, the river swells in ecstasy and triumph. It was an unnerving sight and I was worried about flooding, so I hurried home. I pretended not to hear the words yet again, "You cannot contain me; I am free."