I would like to draw your attention, as water itself draws light to the play of attention, attention on a surface, a beautiful face. a beautiful surface that invites you to sink beneath, sink beneath and fall within. Fall in love. Love the fall. There is no other as water. Only you. There is no other than you. Only water. We parallel. We mirror. We float and we sink in the stuff. We drink it in. We spit it out. It can save us. It can drown us. It can fall down. It can rise up.
I would like to draw your attention to yourself, as you draw light to the play of attention.
It is almost as if we meet the inkling of ourselves when we encounter water. A self that expresses more than it’s seeming self.
I would like to draw your attention to a piece of text written by Alice Oswald:
Homer is the foremost describer of the visible. Homer delights in surfaces, but the surface of water is complicated by transparency and its transparency is complicated by refraction. Water is never the same as itself, rivers can only exist as similarities, lakes reflect more than their own volume and what's more, when you look at water it allows you to exist twice, but more darkly. When you look at it again, it evaporates, as if moving in and out of existence simply required a bit of sunlight. Then it reappears as frost, perfectly symmetrical as if discovering pre-drawn diagrams in thin air. Then it reappears as tears, so that any attempt to describe the surface of water compels you to hide your face and inspect your inmost thoughts. [...] The physics or nature of water is metaphysical, meaning that its surface expresses more than itself.
