do_you_see_the_fish_in_my_eyes globalfruitbat I think I could see them in yours...not yet, but i think I could.... (referencing "self" by Yann Martel, by the by. read it! sooo good) 041007 ... god i can see the table-leg in yr art 041007 ... Karilynn Yes is see it from the other side of the fish bowl. From the outside looking in you cant imagine it. From the inside looking out you cant explain it 060804 ... dipperwell I was alone and in a quiet good mood, receptive to new ideas. The first thing I saw was a fixed image: a simple anatomical drawing of the cross-section of an eye. Next came the fluid images of hundreds of silvery fish swimming as a school. They were like bricks in a magic wall, alternately showing me their long sides, blocking my view, then, with an instant turn, their narrow sides, allowing me to see through them. I was thunderstruck. Eyes...tears...saltiness...seawater...fish. I walked to the garden and sat under a tree, my senses bloated, my head racing with the thoughts that come from a sudden understanding of things. The clear liquid in our eyes is seawater and therefore there are fish in our eyes, seawater being the natural medium of fish. Since blue and green are the colours of the richest seawater, blue and green eyes are the fishiest. Dark eyes are somewhat less fecund and albino eyes are nearly fishless, sadly so. But the quantity of fish in an eye means nothing. A single tigerfish can be as beautiful, as powerful, as an entire school of seafaring tuna. That science has never observed ocular fish does nothing to refute my theory; on the contrary, it emphasizes the key hypothesis, which is: love is the food of eye fish and only love will bring them out. So to look closely into someone’s eyes with cold, empirical interest is like the rude tap-tap of a finger on an aquarium, which only makes the fish flee. In a similar vein, when I took to looking at myself closely in mirrors during the turmoil of adolescence, the fact that I saw nothing in my eyes, not even the smallest guppy or tadpole, said something about my unhappiness and lack of faith in myself at the time. I no longer believe in eye fish in fact, but still do in metaphor. In the passion of an embrace, when breath, the wind, is at its loudest and skin at its saltiest, I still nearly think that I could stop things and hear, feel, the rolling of the sea. I am still nearly convinced that when my love and I kiss, we will be blessed with the sight of angelfish and sea-horses rising to the surface of our eyes, these fish being the surest proof of our love. In spite of everything, I still profoundly believe that love is something oceanic. 's favourite book 060804 ... nom do_you_see_the_finish_line_in_my_eyes 060804 ... circushead i introduced them to the way a lightbulb feels when its switched on there are fish in my veins 060805 what's it to you? who go blather from