Chemists call water the universal solvent, because it can dissolve most things eventually. It's the ultimate recycled product, wandering endlessly round the planet. The water you drink is the same the ancients drank, think about it. Dinosaur wee. It's ok, it's been purified since then.

Someone told me that water holds a memory of what was once in it, a mildly terrify thought considering all the things I've seen floating about in it in my various roles as swimmer, oceanographer and occasional cleaner of toilets.

How long does this memory last? Which things does it remember? How does it forget? Imagine the things it will have touched in its endless travels - every glass must be a veritable elixir vitae.

The liquid from your tap may well be a tincture of whale.


Water, its cycles and patterns seem to be a good way to explore the interconnectedness of life regardless of my views on homeopathy (they were more fun to draw than a turd too). It also ties in nicely with my theme on memory, which I hope to release a little zine on. You can get them here:




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