"Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved"

I'm watching at a photograph and it's me on it, it's my back, i'm sat on the bank of a frozen lake spreading to the horizon, i project myself into the scene, my straight legs are caught in the ice up to the waist, a part of the land is visible on the left, the air is filled with calmness, everything's frozen, and so white it hurts to watch around, sky and earth merged, i recognize my mom standing on that patch of barren land, forbidden and motionless, she's wearing a long dress with lace, entirely black, alike her long frizzled hair falling on her shoulders, ominously black, her face hardly appearing through the slit in that blackness, without thinking i bend my knees to stand up and so break the ice in a screeching sound, turning my head at the dark, ghostly silhouette in that movement, no reaction, then i stop and stare at what i have done, my wet legs sticking out fragments of immaculate ice, instantly fear seizes me, pounding my stomach, i'm projected back, i see my hand holding the piece of material, i was in and out all along, experiencing the two points of view at the same time, and this sudden awareness to have broken something that won't be ever again rips my guts apart and leave me there, bewildered, terrorized, frozen.