When I was a fish my friends were fish too. It’s funny, we found each other again when we were human. I just can’t find my ancestors. Because I was a fish for too long, I think. Some of them might have swum with me, I hope so, alongside me, before my leap into the dry oxygen above passing over in some ship into the dreams of my mother who made me real again.

Wake up gasping for the breath of the broken surface, broken the from the wrong side.

If you were a fish it means you’re always looking.