She wants to tell the fish the colour of the sea today. About the sun pennies on the bay, and she would not make them seem like worthless currency, but treasure just out of reach.

Can you imagine sitting there letting the sea roll over you your whole life. No feet. No locomotion. Your whole fate decided by what washes over you.”“And that’s different than us?

Beneath the foggy sky the glowing sea is hazy, the soft light of a scarf over a lamp.

It is the kind of glassy night when sound travels miles across the surface of the sea; the air a crystal wineglass, susceptible to the slightest flick of a fingertip.

It is impossible, on a day like this, to tell sea from sky.

She hopes she might convince her sea monster that she will not abandon her.