Swordfish steak. Try to reach out with hands as they touch the ocean, I had a friend that always said pacific when he meant specific, if only he where here. I touch the pacific ocean with both hands, slowly bringing them across the surface of the water, dragging them back they naturally vibrate as the water filters between each of my fingers. One day I will walk into the ocean. I feel like I could be turned to sand. With one eye on my palm tree towel in red, blue, green and yellow with a orange frame, i think about how I know. i think about the information flowing, I think about it’s several strains and how they mix and mingle to produce the sensation of reason. How, if a rounded or heavy or dark black distant surface of granite was affixed with the correct signage it could mean. Are the points that mean just the bits we can see, like the bits of rock that stick out from the ocean, is our knowledge like the surface of the ocean and the reality like everything above and below the ocean? So its a calmer day, no rushing around, no turning into tight muscular packages, today, at the edge of land looking out, we visit the beach. We film at the beach, i sit and wonder, what is my awareness compared to that of the whale, probably less, but then, this Syrian Dolphin from 300AD and this Iranian fragment from 1200AD, sitting on a beach, causing laughs as they take a stroll, by the lifeguard hut, not sure of his duties on this matter. So tripod in sand, shutter release cable fully extended we take sculptures, artefacts, to the beach, then meet Winston for Tacos like flowers.