Looks like the trees are practicing their interpretive dance routine.

The lake stretched out before me like a mirror for the sky, its surface broken only by the skeletal forms of drowned trees. Each tree seemed to tell its own story—a tale of survival against the odds or perhaps a quiet surrender to time. The water was so still it felt as though even sound would hesitate to disturb it. A bird circled high above, casting fleeting shadows on the water below. I found myself wondering if these trees had once been part of a vibrant forest or if they had always been destined to stand as sentinels in this watery graveyard. The sun cast long shadows across the scene, highlighting every twist and turn of the branches as if nature herself had sculpted them with deliberate care. It was both unsettling and strangely comforting—a moment suspended between presence and absence.