I see water, any water, this water, I want to get in it, to rejoin it.
Sentences on our affinity with water anyone?
I’m about to begin a writing residency on the sinuous Lot river in France and was looking at this image of water from my previous post – Summer Writing Weeks in France.
The meanders, loops and convolutions of the river scribed across the landscape look like writing to me.
‘That he lived in a world so generously supplied with water seemed like a clemency, a beneficence …. To be embraced and sustained by the light green water was less a pleasure, it seemed, than the resumption of a natural condition.’ (John Cheever, ‘The Swimmer’)
‘In the water you are immersed in an intensely private world …. I can dive in with a long face and what feels like a terminal case of depression and emerge a whistling idiot.’ (Roger Deakin, Waterlog)