“FISHING SUNSET” by Igor Zenin

Even today—and perhaps forever—I am fascinated by the reflections in the water. My favorite place is at a dock, at those tiny harbors of any small Greek island, where the water is cerulean-blue and clean despite the boats, and the winds and waves are calm in the summer. There you can lie on the shore and look upon the surface and marvel at the perfect reflections, glassy and undisturbed by the wind’s kiss; or, other times, surreal and fragmented by the sea’s restless stirring.

As a child, I used to imagine that the reflection was not really a reflection. I fancied it as a parallel universe, where everything was upside-down and absolutely symmetrical to here. Some days, I supposed, the atmosphere in that world would be steady and unshakable as ours; other days, perhaps, it would be like living within a television screen when there’s just enough static to segment the image into a pattern of horizontal waves that bounce up and down because of the poor reception. It’d be quite an adventure, living in such a world.

Of course the moment a fisherman lowered his net, or a fish sprung up out of the water, or a seagull alighted on the surface, or a boat sliced the waves—the spell was broken. The reflection was shattered. And I was reminded that the parallel universe never did exist.
Might make for a great film someday, though.

“Angreek87″