Sagged cheeks. It’s easy to recognise an artist standing by the railings of a lagoon. The water is a cold stride of the moon’s night walk, glowing like a crown of fish scales against a glazing mirth of unknown behind a tangible water-dust. Overgrowth. The years quickly scale the hills of incompleteness. Body sucks into bone. Eyelashes come off their cheap glue. Teeth divorce the gums. The smallest of bodies encompass the widest of oceans. Dreams. A make belief yacht bespangles the sky with fireworks. Too many stars held against their will finally explode, falling to become invisible icebergs on lightless water. Straw hats. The wonder isn’t lost, irrespective of dissonance. The eyes have uncoordinated from scenery. Vastness perimetered. Bodies subside into elegant lagoons.