When I lived on the island, often the clouds stayed below the tops of the mountains surrounding the gulf. When traveling towards the summit you crossed that barrier of the ocean of clouds and appeared in another landscape. The sun was shining there, and the sky was intense blue.
Here in the north something similar happens with the lakes. Sometimes reflections are created so realistic that they appear more detailed and vivid than the source of the reflection itself. A mirror of everything.
Stepping into a fragmented version of the world.
I stop and look around me, seeing everything as if for the first time. I observe the shapes and colors that have no name in this indefinite space in which I cross oceans of clouds or mirrors of dark water.
I wonder where I am.
What I see leads me to see what I don't see.
Liquid worlds.
The darkness of the ice and the forest.
The black and red water of the lakes.
Thinking about clouds leads me to this reflection, to the passage from one place to another and our connection with the sky. To the usual questions, because there is not only what we see. To a state before images are defined, before they are enveloped by the rays of light that pierce our darkness.