Julie Rafalski

The Forest in Joutsa

The stony path slopes down to the lake. The lake- still, broad, deep- reflects sky in complete silence. Trees on its other bank appear small. The narrow mossy paths wind their way through the vertical forest. The ground emits a hollow thump when you walk on it. Wooden planks make paths through the marshes and when the planks sometimes come loose, the planks bounce up, sounding a wooden bang that punctuates the silence.

Why is it so much easier to describe a place once you have left it?
The present meanwhile is so much harder to describe. Now- a passing grassy landscape, the hum of a train engine, brick buildings.
The present makes a window onto the past. A blue sky clearing out the train window. That other sky reflected in the lake- did it look a bit like this sky?