So often faces appear. Very clearly he sees two eyes... A distorted mouth-part-beak...
Skull of a cow? It's said that only four substances exist. Earth, water, air and fire. All is made of these. All pervasive.
Even here. A hint. But only visible in photographs. The flames too quick to see as it happens. An exotic fire-fish mouth agape to catch?
Sparks spiraling off on tangents. Whimsical footprints-trails not yet gone. Too much of the invisible stuff that catches his fancy. A memory. Stored, who-knows-where?, pops up. He's on a fishing boat with two other guys and the captain at the wheel. Night-time fishing for squid. Calamari. The captain an old Italian. From the old country. Crazy as a loon. That whole summer, even though fishing every night they never even once lowered the nets into the dark waters of Monterey bay. Other boats were catching. Manu just wanted to cruise around all night. Who knows why? He was that way. Nuts. Early one morning while standing in the bow and watching the waters, he noticed how the wind was leaving tiny ripples on the flat surface of the bay, not as he would've imagined, but in thin fingers going every which way to simply vanish.