So the ocean breathed, her surface rising and falling with rhythmic ease. The waves became her pulse that day, the echo of the souls she kept safe in her cradle of brine. I wonder if I would ever notice water nor the feeling of the cold waves, had I been born in the oceans but with fins for limbs. Yet I suppose then it would have been my air and I would have moved within it more easily than a bird in the sky. As it is, I love to dive within those salty formless arms and feel the freedom it gives, transparent and blue, soft and strong.
She realizes the career path that she'll take.
