The water played. The water remembered everything and everybody. It could create a haptic and fingerprinted portrait of every swimmer, everyone who happened to be in it drowned; created a hollow copy of any body that has disturbed it. The water has learned by rote all reflections dropped into it, shades of dawns and sunsets, reflexes and hotspots. It was easy for the water to playback a reflection so that a ghost of the reflected thing appears on the bank for a moment: a ghost of the long gone bench or a peasant lost in his thoughts a century ago.
Natalia Galkina, “Villa Renault”