Two people sat on a bench near their apartment every day. Their bodies were turned toward a small lake, one that had been there for as long as they could remember. Yet their eyes did not notice it. It was a constant , something that was always there, and because of that, it was not appreciated as much as it deserved to be, as is often the case. Other people passed by it daily as well, but they did not see it either.

The two people on the bench noticed a new figure walking by; they had not seen her before.

“Probably a new neighbor,” one of them said.

The young woman wore headphones and looked down at the ground as she walked, appearing to be in her own world. She came almost every day. Her clothes were different each time, but her behavior was the same. Eventually, people stopped noticing her.

Until one day, she arrived with a camera.

That unusual detail made the two people on the bench lift their heads.

“Looks like a tourist,” said one.

“Maybe she’s pretending to be an artist,” added the other.

“I don’t know what there is to capture. It’s winter without snow. Everything is gloomy.”

They tried to return to what they were doing, but the woman’s behavior seemed very strange to them. She observed more than she photographed. Days passed, and she barely took a single picture.

“What do you think she’s looking for?” one asked.

The other did not know, but he was beginning to find her almost suspicious.

Then the sun came out, and the woman began photographing more often. To the people on the bench, this was no less strange. They expected her to photograph landscapes, trees, the sky, the sun - but she mostly photographed the ground, or tree trunks up close. As if she saw something they did not.

She would observe, walk, and suddenly stop as though something had appeared. She would crouch down and lift the camera to her eyes.

“Strange,” said one.

“I think she’s not quite right,” said the other.

They returned to what they were doing.

The young woman kept coming, and they tried not to pay attention to her, until one day she passed close by them. They couldn’t resist asking.

“Excuse me, neighbor, what exactly are you photographing?” one of them asked.

“Oh, shadows. With them, no photograph is ever the same,” she replied.

“Why shadows?” the other asked, unable to hide his confusion.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’ll find something through them. That one day, one of them will reveal something to me.”

The two people looked at each other, unsure how to respond politely.

“Well, have a nice day,” she said, and continued walking.

By now, she had gathered enough photographs. Spring was on the horizon, and the sun appeared more frequently. She loved the sunlight, and she loved the shadows of the tree canopies. Even though the photographs with them were always similar, each one was unique. The shadows in the water were interesting too, and the waves created by the wind made the images even more compelling.

Other people did not approach her, even though she greeted them briefly. They were polite, but sometimes she caught their glances and could guess what they were thinking , that she was wasting her time, that she wasn’t living a real life. A few weeks earlier, she would have agreed with them. She had been one of them.

And then she had opened her eyes.

She looked up from the ground, at the whole lake and the small forest surrounding it, and then back down again, at its details.

This is what is real, she thought, though she still felt something was missing.

She continued photographing shadows and looking down, feeling it was very important that she keep looking down.

And then one day, absorbed in the shadow of the trees, just as she pressed the shutter to take a photograph, she captured someone else’s shadow, one that had entered the frame at that very moment.

She looked at the image. She had never captured a more beautiful one.

Then she lifted her gaze and saw a warm, interested smile.

She realized she had found what she had been looking for.

The two people on the bench noticed the change again. The woman was no longer alone. She still held the camera in her hand, still photographed the ground, but now her shadow had company.

“Well, there’s someone for everyone, I suppose,” one of them said briefly, then returned to what he was doing.

But the other did not stop watching them - their smiles, their presence with each other, with everything around them.

The person stood up, and the one who remained seated looked up in confusion.

The figure walked toward the water. The waves moved gently, and the sunlight reflected off the surface where it was not shaded by the nearby tree.

Their eyes widened as they stared into the water.

The first person stood up cautiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing,” they said, without looking away.
“Finally seeing.”