Nature's mirror is cleaner than mine at home.

The river stretched out like a glass ribbon between the ancient rock faces. Each jagged edge of the cliffs seemed to hold its own story, worn smooth in places by time and stubborn in others. The trees clinging to the heights above leaned slightly as if peering down at their reflections in the water below. A faint breeze rustled through the greenery on the opposite bank, but it failed to disturb the surface of the river. I stood there for a long moment, feeling as though I were in a place that existed outside of time. The silence wasn’t empty; it was full of whispers from the rocks and water that had been here long before me and would remain long after. Every now and then, a bird darted across the scene, its shadow briefly breaking the perfection of the mirrored world below.