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Many fish, like you and me,
see octaves of colours,
swallow the purple stars
fall down
into the sea’s mouth,
listen to the lavender silence
of night skies,
detect the green grin of the Moon
in July
from inside the blue living room waters.
The ocean we swim in
is a noisy conservatorium –
the voices and piano sounds travel
almost five times
faster in salty liquids,
than they do on the sweet ground,
in plein air.
Musée en plein air:
the wind walks freely,
the chef-d’œuvres aren’t hanging
on nails.
Many fish, here,
develop a sense of rhythm,
using both the heartbeat and dreams
to catch the purple manna
falling into their pearlescent fins –
hands of fish…

Painting by Arielle Rosin