It’s only when we see small fish like whitebait or even blowfish by the river’s edge that we notice most of the time there are no fish there; they’ve come up out of deeper water. It’s only when we see bigger fish like mullet chasing white bait that we realise most of the time they’re in deeper water chasing smaller fish usually there. And it’s only when we see the largest water animals like dolphins that we realise we are seeing here something of the very depths now rising, chasing fish from slightly higher waters, who were maybe chasing fish from slightly higher waters still, until they’re all present at the shoreline edge. The whole gradation of the depths expressed. 

Elsewhere we might see even finer shifts, like the workings of sealions, sharks and whales. Different-sized whitebait. Other fish of varying ranges. Those that swim the surface, mid range, depths. Those that cross those lines. Everything has a lawful place. Everythign fits. Smaller shoreline crabs, for instance, we half expect, but what a suprise when we see a larger one emerging from the shadowed depths as we go walking by.

And so it was this day, looking down where usually its sand or some blowfish floating on the tide, and see instead the form of the will-filled, life-filled darkened depths given form and speed and strength in dolphin chasing the mullet pinned against the limestone wallings—the fish one form, schooling, though broken into bits when the dolphin strikes and hits. The mullet, out of his depths, pressed, by the upsurging will of life, against death.