This
is not the famous pond with water lilies. The water
trembles, gleams, shines with various colours, but there are
no nenuphars, no white lotuses or of any other colour.
Water? Is it water? Water can be hardly seen under the thick
cover of leaves floating on its surface. Maybe there is no
water at all in this pond. Maybe the fallen leaves are the
water, filling entirely the pit, to the very bottom. They
tremble, gleam, shine with various colours, most willingly
with yellowish greens, rotten browns, greys, sometimes flash
with golden red, but in such a moment doubts appear, whether
this is water or fish scales. What a fish could it be? No
doubt a flying fish. An air one. Aerial or airy-fairy? A
tree fish, an in-tree one – and if not an in-tree, then
in-cloud. A sky fish. A fish which has fallen down from the
sky. Because it is not a fish-ancestor which emerged from
the belly of the Earth, or which has arrived from the other
side of the world, and this is so because this pond is not
one of those water-wells deep to the bottom of the Earth and
Time, tunnelling straight to the Dream Epoch, which remains
on the other side of the world. This fish does not belong to
those ones who carry the world on their backs, either – were
they a few or just one? If it does, then there must be
several fish-carriers, otherwise the world would collapse;
however it is not clear, if this is what has just happened:
the world carried by this fish had collapsed and the fish,
free of the burden of the world, emerged from the abyss of
water; well, not necessarily it had been carrying this world, our world – it had been carrying
another world, quite small, fish are not as strong as ants,
and worlds they used to carry are not many times bigger and
heavier than they, the fish, are, they are only little bit
heavier and bigger. This
is very interesting: a different world on each fish – as
many worlds as fish. And neither blue, nor azure,
nor navy blue, nor cobalt, nor ultramarine tones and dyes.
No inky waters – because this is not an ink-pot. But inks
can be different, not only blue and bluish. For example
brown, green, red, and colourless. Invisible. Having various
dyes and tones of invisibility. Yes. This is really
interesting. A visible world described with invisible ink.
An invisible description of the visible world. Is it the same as visible description of
invisible world? What can be dipped in this ink? A
reed. A simple, most simple pen made of an ordinary reed.
There are no reeds here. Reeds don't grow here. The pond's
shores are free. It's a pity. It's so nice to draw reeds.
Any rush. It's so simple, and so difficult at the same time.
It seems it's enough to put a lot of vertical, or almost
vertical lines, strokes, fast and bold, of almost the same
thickness, then to hit the page here and there, with a
pencil, obliquely or zig-zaging, short cut up, longer cut
down, like a knife, like a sword, like a brush. Done. Ready.
Oh, no. No success again. Either too many strokes, too many
lines, or too few lines, either too strong, or not strong
enough, either the angle is not right, or the saturation of
black and grey is not as it should be. And so on. All the
time the same. One can get crazy because of the simplicity
and easiness of the subject... Miscanthus instead of reeds.
A wall of miscanthus. Almost like rush, but more subtle,
more delicate, thinner, more supple, brighter, more dense,
having more leaves, a lot of long narrow ribbon-like leaves
flapping in the wind, more oblique and horizontal lines and
strokes... and those fluffy feathery plumes...
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