Since I’ve been doing this all year round, I quickly found out that it was a normal occurrence to “stumble” (well, I don’t know if the word is appropriate in an aquatic context…) across the normal inhabitants of our beloved sea, FISH.
The first time I ever saw a fish, I went “Aaaaaaarrrrrgh, a fish!”. It quickly became “Hey. Fish.”. After a season or two, when I had witnessed passing cycles and new generations, I would merrily go “hellooOOoOoOo fishies!” to the shoal of fish amongst which I’d be gliding. There would be tiny fishes, and larger ones. Plain ones, striped ones. Some with big eyes, some with a touch of blue. They often swim in one common direction then they suddenly decide to swiftly take another one, and startle the hell out of you. There is a funny phase in the year, some time around March, where you have to strenuously make your way amid tons of humongous lethargic fish, who are so heavy and lazy they don’t even deign move an inch away from you. My favourite ones are the solitary fishes, the ones who are going their own way, minding their own business, far from their peers. The loners.
Very quickly, my morning encounters with the fish became a moment I would look forward to. And I was enjoying my newly found comfort amongst the aquatic community. Up to that point, the only instances where I had seen fish were either in documentaries or in somebody else’s plate. Only once had I experienced a more “personal” episode with fish, when I made a painting on the “Souk” theme, where I depicted the horror of the fish market in the eyes of a child.
These bygone times seem so far away now. And in both in my plate and kitchen, things have also come a long way. I am such a big fish lover today, that I sometimes even surprise myself.
Well then, just imagine my surprise when I found myself, the other day while swimming, thinking “yummy” at the sight of a fish.