The odd colors drew my eye to the water. I didn’t understand this refraction of light because I could not see those colors in the sky. The blurred branch reflections― moved and gently smeared by current― were held in a space beyond the earth and wetness. As I walk I often think about perspective and how we can get attached to views of what is or isn’t visual truth. Years ago, I remember reading a story about Picasso talking to someone on a train. I’ve lost track of the origin of the story but I will recall it the best I can. The passenger next to Picasso asked him about his work and Picasso said he was an artist. The passenger said he only liked realistic paintings, he didn’t like abstract images. Picasso asked what he meant. He asked, “what is realistic?” The man took out a photograph and said “Here – this is a picture of my wife. She looks just like this photograph.” Picasso took the photograph, turning and examining it from above, below, and from the sides and replied, “She is awfully small and flat.” My walks give me endless opportunities to see things from multiple perspectives informed by elements such as the weather, season or time of day and my awareness. I think about the branches in this photograph. They have a few wintered leaves and no spring growth yet. In this image, they have a fluidity not seen from their more land locked view but they hold a sense of their branchness and allow me to ponder a wider definition and view of permeability.