A strange song haunts the sea; not in shallow places, where the crab scuttles and the starfish strands, but in the dark green lightless depths of ocean. In its rise and fall you hear a lamentation for the passing of so many - so many dead; so many graceful singers dragged, slashed and bloody, from their element, made clumsy, dumb, great lifeless hulks of property. And yet the song mourns more than just the singers' kin; in its theme is woven all the horror of the earth, all the terror of the hunted, every helpless cry of pain. If that song grows quieter now, do not imagine that the slaughter has diminished - the singers have diminished.
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