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.
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