ABSTRACT
Consider a river pool, isolated by fluvial processes and time from the main stream flow. We are immediately struck by one overwhelming impression: it appears so still…so very still…still enough to soothe us. The river pool provides a kind of poetic solemnity, if only at the pool’s surface. No words of peace, no description of silence or motionlessness can convey the perfection of this place, in this moment stolen out of time. We ask ourselves, “The water is still, but does the term still correctly describe what we are viewing? Is there any other term we can use besides that? Is there any other kind of still?”
