**Memoir**
Solemnity befalls the land.
There is a sacredness, a sanctity, to the solitude.
The water, the current, and the light that splits through it forms a web or lattice of glass. The hills across the river are covered in an assortment of foliage—
Jade and moss-colored shrubs and trees speckled around above the dry, beige grass like an earthen fur.
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**Eddies and objects**
And the very movement of the water creates these black bubble-like orbs that grow and vanish under the surface as if you were peering at the silhouette of lava lamp wax.
The sky? Flat solid blue. It is so stark how there is not even a thinnest haze or semblance of cloud, turning this sky the slightest bit whiter.
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And without music, with no distraction, all one hears is the waterflow downstream and a distant plane and chittering birds. Here, in this place, the world ceases to exist.
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One could not be more blessed to find heaven in oblivion.
All it takes is to find the furthest place nearby to remove reality.
Or, is it immersion? It does not matter.
Hush your mind and the voices, stop the music, and be present with the greens, blues, browns, and all the light that comes on it.
Your best temporary release.
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