Under certain conditions, water freezes in curves around the expanding pressure of air, in a shape reminiscent of liquid water giving way to form.
At other times, it freezes in the shape of its crystals, in the shape of water breaking up.
But when it breaks, it breaks sharp lines.
They intersect the curves left by freezing, but do not follow them.
They are stronger, and yet, look, air builds the rounded forms again in the openings made by breakage.
Water has affinity with stone and air. It lies between them. And if we add heat-gathering structures? Ah.
It will honour any shape it is given.
When your life is the intersection between holding solid and accepting inputs along a line of heat, it’s like that. The trick is, you have to accept whatever you are given. Fortunately, you can enter the air again, and by doing so leave almost all weight behind, but, look …
… you reform around specks of dust. We call clouds oceans in the sky, but are they not, rather, furrowed fields?
And when they fall, the rain streams in straight lines, yet then, at once pools.
But, look, even the curves are lines. In another view of the universe, they are straight and sharp as ice.
Well, that’s life on Earth.