on a barnacle encrusted boulder at the water’s edge. a hong kong river opens out to sea. it is 630pm, the day becomes dusk; water nags and folds on all the boulders. closer to the edge, a rounded fish pecks at barnacular protrusions; juvenile puffer. a pair of slender translucent fish seem to wait, each with a tiny white brain set behind its eyes. hundreds of half-inch guppies hover synchronized, bodies like tiny squirts of motor oil.
a hunting crab’s ocular stalks spot movement. or perhaps he felt the sound of foot on rock. scatters down and away.
it is getting darker. rhythmic lapping interrupted by an occasional larger fish breaking tension and thrusting body into the air. soon the attacks come frequently. from that spot radiate a thousand more jumps. smaller fish reacting to the gaping maw which startled them. the jumps beget more of the same, and a circle spreads out in all directions. two seconds after the fleshy white doom has submerged, the tiny fish are still jumping. following, reacting, running from a threat which no longer exists.
June 2, 2008
