In March 2017 the weather was playing tricks in Helsinki. One day it felt and smelled like spring with the snow melting fast and exposing the ground, but overnight the subzero temperatures returned, covering everything in a glasslike icy vitrine. This cycle kept repeating over the course of the next few days before winter finally loosened its grip.


Under my feet, by the sea shore in my home town, a miracle was emerging. The stars and galaxies had been mirrored from the skies down into puddles, nooks and crannies. You just needed to look close, very close, and you could see planetary surfaces and galaxies all mixed in one amazing microcosmic dance. The scale didn’t matter: everything in these small worlds had its own energy and pace, mimicking the immortal celestial rhythms.


Strangely enough I haven’t encountered this natural phenomenon again on such a grand scale. But  since then I have learned to look right, left, up and DOWN when walking.