Careful to avoid the water, as clear as it may be, you make your way onto the dry platforms formed by the spreading roots. The trees bear a small orange fruit, half the size of Kasumi’s clenched fist. The water too promises to be cool and refreshing, dotted with some of the small, dark green leaves the trees shed sparingly. A short distance away a log floats aimlessly in the water, and some of the smaller fish swim nimbly between the tangled mass of the roots just below the surface.