Vänern, Sweden’s largest lake, has as many faces as it has years. Though I’ve spent most of my summers by, in, and on it since childhood—and have lived near its shores for over 15 years now—I still discover something new each time: a rock formation, an insect, a bird, or a small, resilient niche where life has taken hold on the barren sandy bottom or among the rocks.

Despite its surprises, the lake remains a constant—steadfast and strong. It seems to resist both the geological and climatic changes of time, and even our human attempts to reshape it. You can see the marks of this resilience in its inhabitants: purple loosestrife clinging to bare cliffs; crooked but proud pine trees; gull chicks braving storms and rain; black-throated divers calling for their mates; wagtails and sandpipers raising their young on beaches and cliffs, year after year.

For me, Vänern is a meaningful encounter every time. While others might look forward to meeting a pop star, a celebrated author, or even an extraterrestrial being, I look forward to returning to Lake Vänern. To its soft water, its hard cliffs, its windswept beaches and quiet bays—and to its vast, endless expanse. There, I can simply be. Myself.