The Weight of Flowing

Water does not argue with the stone. It moves around it, or it moves over it, but it never stops to explain its path. We spend our lives building gates, trying to hold back the current, believing that if we can just control the flow, we might finally be still. But the water is indifferent to our masonry. It carries the silt of the mountains and the memory of the rain, moving toward a sea it will never see. We watch from the bank, hands deep in our pockets, wondering if we are the ones holding the gate or if we are merely the debris caught against it. There is a particular ache in watching something move when you are forced to stand perfectly still. The river knows where it is going. Do you?

Ola Cedell has captured this quiet tension in the image titled Annecy Le Thiou Floodgate. The water presses against the iron, insistent and cold. Does it feel like a barrier to you, or a release?