The water is murky. By the looks of it without direct sunlight since several years before we land on the moon. Diffraction patterns cover the surface. They emanate from circles, intersections of concrete, water, air, and light. The patterns display symmetries. They reflect the steady hum of traffic above. I will see these patterns many times, but I will lose the hum of traffic, because I start to listen to music during my commutes. It helps keep my little madman from torturing me while my arms are pinned to my sides. The mood of the patterns changes with the music. A hand shackles nature’s gentle flow in a sunless room filled with stale air, and creates something alive and beautiful. A few days each year cherry blossoms fall from distant trees to float among the columns, to litter the surface with a softer edge, a more tenuous future. They are a reminder that one day these patterns too shall die and be replaced with something else. Meanwhile, below the surface, life changes unalterably.
Syncopated Rhythm - James Halat