describe in detail, in the style of proust, an old man's emotions as he tells this story: First time I laid eyes on her was at the pond. At some point during the day it was hot, and I felt the desire to be in it. When I got there, the first thing I noticed was the sunlight dancing on the surface of the water,  these little shimmering sparks. Then I saw her and she moved through the water with a hypnotic fluid grace, her reflection undulating as she glided through subtly waving waters. I was standing at the edge of the pond at that point. She never looked up, but she beckoned to me with her hand, so stepped in. The water embraced my body like a sensual caress that sent shivers down my spine. I was surrounded by the beauty of the water and the woman. I started wading through the water over to her. The temperature must have been identical to that of the body, it created a feeling of oneness with the element, save for the tickling sensation as it rushed between my toes. When I got to her I looked into her eyes and I hugged her tightly and tears dripped down my face.