February, 2012. For so many years temperatures had not dropped that much in the region. Just a week ago, the river was covered by a firm layer of ice. There were those who became alarmed by the low temperatures that were recorded every night, which were about ten degrees below zero in more than one occasion. But not that long ago, this was called winter, I thought.

The spectacle of frozen water onto the river was fascinating. Some compositions of the surface, impressive, seemed to be asking to be observed carefully, so as to offer symmetries and light games and unusual textures to the passersby, thanks to the icy wind blowing down here from far away which stopped everything with its breath, almost imperceptible.

But if you looked at it with attention, under the firm and icy layer, water was flowing river as a metaphor of life, in which there are moments where everything seems to freeze, to stop. In which chance, bereavement, illness, or the simple consequences of the acts of the past, sometimes force us to live with the stiffness, with a difficulty to deal with change, with impotence, with ‘I cannot’, with ‘not now, now has to wait’. Wait patiently. Be patient.

Despite this apparent stop, however, life continued to flow into the deep, flowing down the river and irrigating the land, that in short will burst into life and greenery. March is one step ahead and ice will also be converted into water, giving away life. And Spring will come, then will Summer and then we will return to the river and the surrounding countryside to see this ice turned into the flow that gives life to the flowers and leaves of trees, and gives scent and taste to the fruits.

Kisses, hugs.


Alex Rovira