Team work
This morning I read a post by Arnfinn Pettersen (@arnfinnpettersen) that said, “It is nice when a puddle truly cooperates,” and it immediately took me back to c.1998, when I was traveling through Poland.
I was walking through Rynek Główny on a bright summer day. The square was beautiful, but almost too composed, and I remember thinking how different it might feel if the ground were wet—how a thin layer of water could sharpen the light, loosen the scene, make it breathe.
Not long after, one of those sudden summer storms arrived. I stepped into a bookstore as the sky darkened, and the rain poured down, heavy and insistent. It felt as if it might last forever. Then, just as abruptly, it stopped. As if a faucet had been turned off. The sun returned in full force, unfiltered.
And there it was—the puddle.
Brief. Perfectly placed. Cooperating.
For a brief moment, the world inverted itself. Architecture softened, lines diffused, and a passing figure dissolved into reflection, becoming less a body than a presence. The image existed only for an instant. A millisecond later, it was already gone, it had evaporated, disappeared.
Like a ghost, passing in a blink—a sensation more than a scene. Long enough for me to capture it. And then pfttt, gone!
All thanks to a cooperating puddle.
