essays by Shé

Fish Friend

In Love on September 6, 2022 at 1:19 pm

Green, silver, tiny, and in my face. Quick fish darts to my mask: once, twice, three times. It is possible to laugh through a snorkel tube.

I’ve seen at least 25 species of fish this morning. This one’s about an inch and a half, if that, two-tone: mottled green along the top half, silver along the bottom. When I float awhile, arms outstretched before me, it snuggles against my skin, rapidly finning to keep close. Big eyes, relative to its body, with a teeny undershot jaw. Cute little tail, pale.

We look at each other a long time. How would it describe me? There was this huge creature! Like a turtle without a shell. Weird limbs, attenuated, with small flippers at the ends. Very pale, except for fine seaweed at a knobby end near the torso, above humongous eyes. A couple dark blue and black stripes, crosswise.

We’re all mysteries to each other.

Blue Reflection Two, acrylic on paper, Shé 2022
Blue Reflection Two, acrylic on paper, Shé 2022
  1. This is a really nice piece–felt great to read it.

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