Dolphin Address 26 2003
August 17, 2003
I let go all I can until every bit of air is clean gone, so I can take in maximum oxygen. Hold it just a tic before taking in. Now let it in, the rush of air, fast and firm until I nearly can chew it. There is time, she knows, she wants me to do it right, she's a pro.
Stretch out now, maximize body length, power on, tension to peak, go to push up and pull me down, heaving the wing, unfold and go on to strike the mono just beyond the waves, a mighty blow sending me down to 10 feet in another second, trailing long silver vortex threads.
The seabed in focus, past the swaying kelp, the worn down rock with all its shelltered life, down to the grit of sands with their irregular patterns that are so incredibly inhabited. The stroke of a finger chases an all-eyed tiny cuttlefish out, smaller than a matchbox; it stares at me with indignation from a safe distance.
Foto: Verena Schwalm
Then I hear a rattle to a buzz, running around me, she's here, she's here. What might have been a white dot jellyfish in the distance is moving towards me, followed by the smile of the ocean. She stops right before me, leaning on one pec after the other. I reach out my hand, but she's taking her time. Then slowly she rolls on one side and swims in the ultimate armpit. I knead it softly, lovingly as I would a woman with true love.
Then I see she is rubbing her beak simultaneously on an edged rock. Might I as well be that rock? Before I get to feel sad, she opens her mouth as if taking a bite out of the rock. I decide to go to the other side of the rock, to change the perspective. She stops the biting.
I have to go up for air, but I want to know what happens next. It's nothing in particular; she just fades away in the bluish haze like a day in the life. It is high time to draw air.
Jan Ploeg, Doolin pier, August 17th 2003
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