(remembering Mishima's stream where Edo stones, moss-runed, lift and sink with the seasons)
"What is water, which has not taste or colour of its own, but a liquid form of Nothing? And what are the Fens, which so imitate in their levelness the natural disposition of water, but a landscape which, of all landscapes, most approximates to Nothing? ...every Fenman suffers now and then the illusion that the land (walked) over is not there, is floating....