The shark tank is my favorite place in the aquarium. The music's electronic beat pulses through my brain. I've always thought of electronic music as water because of this place. It has a certain aura, reminding me of ocean depths; whales calling for a tryst in the bottomless black water.
The fish are alien beings behind glass. But they are at peace- they know nothing else. Their own element- comfortable, without wanting anything further. Always fixated on a goal, but holding the knowledge that they really don't have to achieve it. Their eyes wander across the glass. I can't help but wonder if they see me. If they've seen it so many times before and know my story. They know hundreds of people. They see a girl's first kiss in the basement of the aquarium. They see a child get lost; see the terror in his eyes, but never understand the look. Grandpa has a heart attack from seeing a shark so close. They observe with vague detachment. They watch the family's grief at seeing Grandpa die- but they can't comprehend. They see old lovers and young ones, and ones who don't know how to love at all. They see searchers, only there to find themselves by watching meandering and aimless paths through the water. They see desperate, crying faces glaring at them through the windows. They feel the water pressing them on all sides-keeping them alive and breathing. They don't know the feeling of suffocating in air- but why even wonder? It doesn't matter because it hasn't happened. No sense in worrying over something that might not happen. Glassy-eyed stares flicker over their surroundings.
The crowds always emerge from the depths of the aquarium, blinking in the bright light. Another world is left behind them; the music flows on as the revolving door cycles bodies through with mechanical efficiency.
No comments:
Post a Comment