Water, it seems, has an infinite number of faces. It can run between stones, foam, crash against rocks, and make so much noise that you can't hear your own thoughts. Or it can lie perfectly still, taking in the reflection of the sky and the morning sun, and seem motionless.

It can be fresh or salty. Warm or cold. Clear or murky. Deep or very shallow. Sometimes the water recedes, leaving behind seaweed, stones, and dark traces on the shore. You look at them and realize that not long ago, the sea was here.

Perhaps what I like about water is precisely this: it is never the same. Even where it seems still, something is happening. It reflects what is above it, flows around what stands in its path, takes the shape of the shore, and then recedes again. And maybe that's why I love returning to it. There is always movement in it, even when it's not visible.