FREDRIK SCHEIKE

I'm standing in front of a river, a free flowing, powerful stream. I hear it roar in my ears, I can feel its pure energy piercing my spirit. Its natural force makes me pale in comparison. Its age, carved into the layers of the earth for thousands upon thousands of years makes my entire existence seem puny, seem like a flower in the wind. And maybe that's the key? I stand before awe inspiring life and think about death, I think about the human cycles and how we will all cease to exist and how in a few hundred years, no one will ever remember you. I look into the swirling, into the bubbly and into the foam and I feel it pulling through the ages, through the generations. I feel a stronger connection to the wild waters than to all what our modern lives have to offer. I look deep beneath its surface and I see, not what Narcissus saw, but a much truer beauty than one's perishable face. I stand before the river, wondering how to get across, wondering how to get back