Vast expanses of the seabed are unveiled by the receding waters, while conversely, powerful waves come to collide on the coasts: those are the spring tides.

The surrealist stroll as a contemplative meander can begin. The movement is here, fluid, fast, fleeing, and bewitching.
Joining here are traveling waters which have flowed in the veins of the entire world, mixing with others to present themselves before us in vain, before leaving again for an eternal return, an eternal path.

Is it really the tides that strain or is it or perceptions that drift away? Is it the tides that we observe or the allegory of our mental state?

The gravitational force and the centrifugal force inhabit us. We begin to be one with nature. Immobile, mobile, stable, unstable, alive.
Diving head-on, heart-on, a course of action takes shape. The stroll is pursuing. We are pursuing the tide. The tide follows. We follow the stroll.
We are the motion; we are the wave; we are the eternal beginning, beginning again.
These waters flow within our veins as they flow in the universe.
Our body is full of them. We live by the rhythm and the whim of the waves.

Whether it be visually, by a juvenile leap, by an intimate touch, or by an in-depth excursion, making contact with these spring tides is a purpose. Once this one achieved, our mental state is won over.
Mine has been through these lenses which managed to illustrate the mysticism of these spring tides.