“I came into the parlour thinking: I wanted, like, 2 fish in a bowl at the center — navel. But Eddy, my Edward, if only in the future, poopooed the idea. You need to counter fish with birds, swim with flight. Else you’ll be stuck underwater, unable to gain perspective by reaching the land. He stared at me. I think I fell a little in love right then and there — a seed. It was the old proverb, you see.”
“Proverb?” I prompted.
“Yeah, fish in water — to the fish it’s like our air. They don’t understand the concept of water and that it’s below while air is above. Water just *is* for them… everything.”

—–
And so it was with Our Second Lyfe for me, at least up until photo-novel 41 and continuing into 42 and beyond. Now I have both up *and* down. Strengthened; reinforced. I actually appreciate it more now by contrast. It is what it is but that’s still saying a lot. It hasn’t been beaten back and broken down like I kind of expected. And I don’t think that’s going to happen.
The above shot is from the Navel Sink (aka Egg Hill Sink) at the exact center of the Corsica continent both in a north-south and east-west direction, once centered itself by what was called the Phish Bowl, a long term night club of some kind as I recall shaped like a giant fish tank. Gone but not forgotten: obvious foreshadowing for future developments in several ways.
I had a “friend” who lived in that center too. Sachie. Haven’t thought about her in a while.
(to be continued)