Aerial views reveal what once lay hidden in the folds of the earth: “tidal trees” shaped not by roots, but by water. Drawn to the Qiantang River, I watched as tides etched and erased these forms—sediment settling with the rise, channels carved with the fall. From above, they resemble ink paintings: flowing trunks, branching veins, fleeting leaves. Yet they are living patterns of motion, rewritten daily, never the same twice. Quietly, they also sustain life—softening currents, sheltering fish and birds, breathing as an ecosystem.