A wind blew up. There is
a turbulence that
drags at the
tension of the surface, that
loosens the bonds between
molecules,
starts to scatter them.
In the white
water where the foam
flies and the froth forms
shapes that feel familiar, flickering
like flames (but there have been no flames yet) -
in the white waters we
see arms and legs,
and the vague features of something floating...
features that hint at a future idea, perhaps,
at a possible method of movement.
The separation of light and
fear, of the waters and the other,
the separation of the calm and the restless;
the beginning of the restless,
of the rest.