There is never any wind here.
Only the fog moves slowly across the water,
as if trying to find a shore that does not exist.

Sometimes I come to the Tree
and look at it for a long time.
I don't know how long it has been standing here.
I don't know if it was here before me.

It reflects in the lake,
but the reflection is always slightly different.

Perhaps that is why I don't like looking into the water for too long.

Nothing here disappears completely.
It just becomes too far away
to be seen.

I don’t know what will happen when it remove the last place where I can see myself.