The aquarium dwellers are only acquainted with humans as their benevolent god or goddess who brings them food and occasionally cleans their home, while those who travel between oceans and rivers watch the underside of ships as their ancestors have done for so many generations.

I wonder what secrets do those coral-dwellers keep to themselves as they watched the Titanic sink beneath the iceberg? But I would miss the starry skies if I left this world for a life under the sea.

I think it would fun, to learn scuba diving and search the sea-floors near home now that winter is arriving, and the silt has shifted elsewhere. My friend As. is near completion on his sea divers license and will someday observe rotting shipwrecks with his camera lenses. So much fun!

Today I organized my jewelry box; a pretty affair that consists of distangling rainbow strands of silver chains and hearts or beads and strings, matching missing earrings that frill at the top or dangle feathers below, trying on gemstones and iconic moody rings, and a fresh exclaim upon discovery of those sentimental memories I laid aside years ago.

Now everything is carefully sealed away in plastic bags or smaller jewelry jars for yet to wear hairstyle pieces.

Can’t wait until the appearance of pumpkins at Halloween

pigeons are walking to and fro on railroad tracks, after the train is gone.

Children in low brim hats and long shorts inspecting seaweed, two youths skipping polished stones across the water, a seagull resting his web-feet on a seemingly irrational street-sign in the middle of the beach, soon to sink its foundations underwater. A stork, or a heron? standing by itself among the gulls, like a weather vane steel bird on asphalt rooftops.

And the ocean itself! In three shades of blue, attempting to duplicate the restless tides that kiss the shores, I slowly realize there is no color that can match the sun glinting off the water, the splashing sea-spray against sinking boulders, the beady-eyed stare of a hungry seagull.

Below the bench where we rest, we watch the land being swallowed up until it is invisible; where I was minutes ago, collecting oyster esko-skeletons and photographing many-footed prints in sands.

The river beneath this expanse marks its pathway with wind-charged wavelets, shifting muted tones of silver-blue to silver grey. From the end of the dock I can glimpse undisturbed green water pierced with sunlight, while at a distance it appears to be the color of grey-blue eyes. The chilled water is hugging barnacle-clustered posts and anchored boats at rest. I wander past the docks back to green grass, back to the everyday reality of solid ground to walk on.

Tucked into the corner in a seat that looks as if a double cut in half, the scenery environment of city streets people shops bicycles traffic jogging by my senses casually, as the interconnected wires in the sky held themselves to the bus much like when his hand holds mine when the outside world is dark with electric lights.

Children in pink and white leotards exiting a ballet academy, coffee shops and chocolate cake bakeries side by side, while passersby walking to and fro, going and coming nowhere in senseless directions. A girl in a bright blue skirt and her scarf wrapped around her head made me look twice.

A clock in the middle of the road reminded me of one destination in my impromptu journey. The doors were closed and locked, ringing the doorbell would have granted me immediate entrance the woman gently admonished me. I wandered for less than thirty minutes, hiking boots squeaking on polished wood floor, tilting my hat backwards so I could visualize the artwork more freely.

Photographs of ocean foam or trees stripped of bark contrast, white and black, with shiny pebbles. Examples of lithography? collages? female silhouettes and red background of contrasting vanities that define advertisements beauty or shadows of darkness on a background of between blue and green and white sinking. My favorite was a three by four panel of twelve blocks to create an impression of one single reaching tree.

I left the gallery with three souvenirs and a signature in the guest-book.