When I drink from a glass or bottle, I think about the ubiquity of water. Aside from air, it is the most common of the primal elements, but it is an enigma. The product of a burning gas, it is colorless, yet seems to have color. It can be a flowing liquid, an evanescent mist, a cold solid. As a delicate, featherweight snowflake it quickly melts into liquid in my hand, yet as glacial ice it can carve and polish solid rock. Water is found in the soil, sky and living tissues of all pants and animals. It is an essential part of all aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems. Water comprises nearly 70 percent of the biomass, or total weight, of all planetary life forms. It makes up 85 percent of my brain, 10 to 15 percent of my bones, and about 80 percent of my blood. In a reductionist sense, I am simply a vessel for moving water from place to place.