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Friday, October 21, 2011

Liquid. A poetic discription.

The water is cold, more than I prefer. As I swim just under the waters surface, a ray swims past me. My heart pounds in my ears, I am fearful of something that can't hurt me. I look at the coral. Fish are swimming around in the nooks. They are so brightly colored, neon almost, I am amazed at the florescence. My fear is extreme, not really because I am frightened, because I am so excited it scares me. I look over and see a barracuda in a ship wreck. My heart pounds even more. The water is clear like glass. I look at the unusual colors, some I have never even seen before. I am so scared, never being in this world before. I long to go deeper, but I keep back, terrified of the giant rays. I see schools of fish, Blue, Green, Pink, Purple, every color imaginable, even some that aren't. As I surface again, I see the world above, breaking the image of the wild. Tourists are every were. Loud. I sink back under the surface, trying to hold on to the wild, silent freedom of an ocean that isn't real.

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