the story of the walking fish (2 of 17)
I always lie on my bed, and try to touch the sky. (In my
daydream I am always lying under the wide sky.) Always, I
wonder what’s beyond the clouds… there must be a beautiful
palace, angels and fairies around, the air would smell like
vanilla, creamy sweet and feathery soft.
And then I become a fish, with golden-orange scales,
looking up the water and wondering, what’s up over the
Left and right
To and from
Up… and up, and up, and
Finally, reach out of the surface; take a breath, and
Fish (myself, golden-orange)
And then, I come back again.