There are personal experiences that invert all expectations. They tear you away from the flow of safe and familiar currents and immerse you in a reality that has always been there, but that you have never seen. That you never wanted to see or, at most, only expected to see at the end of everything. What can happen when what many adults will never be prepared to know happens to a child? How much will this initial path be influenced and what paths will be opened, closed, or reimagined by this moment of singularity? This is the starting point of the film Memory of Water, by filmmaker, musician, and V.J Michael Lasserre. In the film, young Loïc, distracted playing with a soccer ball, falls into the pool of his house. Motionless in perplexity, he contemplates his own drowning, the revealed fear that loosens and, floating above all, a state of peace that kisses ecstasy. A detachment from oneself, covered by the embrace of water, which places him, for seconds unfolding like fractals, in a floating womb beyond time, known only to saints, artists, madmen, and drug users, who will almost always in vain try to touch the golden crown again. The boy Loïc becomes the adult Loïc, immersed in art and in himself, each day farther from an external world continuously stranger, blurred and noisy, like static that once was music. Loïc is alien among his own, and his world oscillates between that point of clarity in childhood, long gone, and the longing of one who feels that at the next turn in the labyrinth, all labels will be torn off and the hidden obvious will smile at him. But he knows that the last censorship does not go away without absolute detachment. From others and, entirely, from himself. That's why he sets off aimlessly to where he always wanted to go since that fall. A silent pilgrimage with his motorcycle, through beautiful and lonely landscapes. An animal that knows, seeks, and desires, the violence that comes before the memory of the waters. Lasserre's work unfolds unhurriedly. In contemplation in obsessive acts. In the shock of those around, transposed into text messages. In the beautiful photography and the soundtrack often almost inaudible, but always there. A film to be seen calmly and in introspection.