porcine ponderings

I'm not at all sure how I was lured to this spot in these nary-a-care about being in the range of such oh-so-pleasant Caribbean waters at this strange angle and with a celestial azure as background if I turn around to look (the soundless cumulus are of no import whatsoever) but I do somehow vaguely recall some Spanish speakers of the Caribe and Iberia discussing whether I would qualify as a puerco or a cochino or a cerdo or even a marrano which I for some reason know was a term for a sort of religious turncoat way back in the day (treason?) switching from Judaism to a Christian prism and therein an optical suggestion applicable to my present condition of heightened sensual awareness with ears sharply attuned and eyes doubly awake and snout about ready to taste the reeling feeling below the waterline and the sensation of sand-struck or stuck if I am not careful hooves behooving me and my newly found ability to think like a human wandering in space in place and wondering about the nature of the current aquatic challenge and of these porcine ponderings