As the winter sun falls behind the hills, a thin ice spreads over the water. It swallows the river’s reflections. I stroke the ice with pigment; it barely yields, melting slightly, coaxing the colors to bleed. I break the ice, turning two dimensions into three. Colors merge or drift away. They settle on the sands below. Slowly the water’s surface solidifies its icy gaze, trapping in place the river’s rearrangement of my actions. It is my turn again; the river invites my response.
