The water flows downstream, all the way from the melting ice in the mountains. The rocks surrounding give it direction.

 At a specific point rocks appear in the middle of the stream, the wall delimiting the space get closer and small calm pools form.

The pools seem static, but  just a few meters away it makes its way fast between the rocks, falling violently.

Wider rocks form larger static pools.

Looking downstream, a river island forms what seems to be a lake surrounded by large white sediment figures.

The water is warm and motionless, the wind is blowing softly, and the birds are quiet.

Some branches fall and the water receives them, flowing, accepting.

           Then she smiles.

A bitter breeze creates a chilling sound.

The water slows down, getting hard as a rock on the edges of the river.

The birds chirp, branches of trees fall and freeze midair. As the wind touches the surface of the lake all of it gets a little bit harder, and a little bit harder, until it becomes ice.

The river still flows, the lake doesn’t.

It is static, not a lake anymore but a solid rock.

Some more branches brake overtime and fall to the stressed lake, staying in the surface, cracking and hurting the frigid rock. They remain on top, like a burden. Only time can make it flow again.

Brightness comes slowly, and with it the periphery of the lake starts melting.

It flows slowly, one second, one minute, one day at a time.

The first branches sink to the bottom, and the pain is relieved. Then everything melts, and fresh water flows back.

The lake is once again calm,

The lake isn’t once again, but completely new.