Fish live in me. They look out of me through the window of the world with their empty eyes, shining cold scales in the light of random stars. They die silently in the warming mixture of the soul and are also silently born again. Shy fry of doubt, predatory serpentine love electrified with passions, voracious sharks of rage and colorful poisonous fish of smiles. They multiply, devour each other, hide from the bustle under the stones of memory and go through the transparent fins of me from the inside, silently swim into inevitability. Fish live in me. And I smoke and watch the sky pour out my window. I look at it with empty fish eyes, I go through it with clear fingers, I inhale water, I swim in... Al Quotion, from the book "Part of Improvisation"