The Surface of Memory

Water is a mirror that does not lie, though it often forgets. We stand at the edge, looking down, expecting to find ourselves. Instead, we find a version of the world that is softer, more fluid, and entirely beyond our reach. To watch the surface is to accept that everything solid is temporary. A ripple, a breath, a shift in the wind—the image breaks. We spend our lives trying to hold onto things that are already dissolving. We want the stillness to last, yet we know that stillness is only a prelude to the next movement. There is a quiet ache in watching something so clear, knowing that if you were to touch it, the reflection would vanish into the depths. What remains when the water settles again? Is it the same world, or has the river taken a piece of us with it?

Tisha Clinkenbeard has captured this quiet displacement in her image titled Fishing Reflection. It reminds us that we are often looking at two worlds at once, only one of which we can inhabit. Do you ever wonder which one is more real?