Like the fish at the bottom of the dock, we wait. Hanging
around, ready to pounce, but waiting – for better bait, for real bait, hungry
for something but not sure what will be tossed down our way. What do we see? It
isn’t perfectly clear – there are differing combinations of combined particles
superseding our vision, it’s muddied, it’s wavy, it’s not certain. We look up
and see light spliced apart into rays of motion. Hunger leads us to the
bottom of the dock, within eyesight of the fisherman, not the safety of the shadows
or weeds like our older, larger brethren.
Or are we still the fisherman, hungering for a catch?
Wondering when that right fish will come along – or if that right fish will
take the bait? Is it the right bait? Should we be fishing for the little fish
at all?
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