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I arrived at the lake before sunrise and found it breathing—mist rising from warm water into cold air, backlit by the coming dawn in shades of gold I couldn't have invented. A loon appeared in the glow, silhouetted, moving slowly through the fog like it had nowhere urgent to be. The reflection existed but barely—softened by mist, doubled but diffused, the ghosted shape beneath the bird more suggestion than mirror. This is reflection at its most mysterious: not the crisp doubling of still water, but the atmospheric version where everything—bird, shore, trees—exists in multiple states simultaneously. Solid and ethereal. Present and fading. Real and reflected in equal measure.
I arrived at the lake before sunrise and found it breathing—mist rising from warm water into cold air, backlit by the coming dawn in shades of gold I couldn't have invented. A loon appeared in the glow, silhouetted, moving slowly through the fog like it had nowhere urgent to be. The reflection existed but barely—softened by mist, doubled but diffused, the ghosted shape beneath the bird more suggestion than mirror. This is reflection at its most mysterious: not the crisp doubling of still water, but the atmospheric version where everything—bird, shore, trees—exists in multiple states simultaneously. Solid and ethereal. Present and fading. Real and reflected in equal measure.