My sister and I were sat on the window ledge porch. Morning. I thought it was a smokestack so tall on the ship on the water but we agreed it was a crane. It felt like a real impossibility. Later that day we sank into deep muddy trails better designed for skiing. We lost. The eagle swooped down on the salmon's head on the tidal flat as I returned. The head had stared at me from its hot pink sever. The flies watched until I had past. I ran from the kitchen to the kitchen to rescue the halibut. My footsteps paced circles in the sand, sinking deeper. I couldn't transform a neural node into a material pixel. But the fish turned out alright. I kept myself from the internet. I read after dinner until I could weep. I read until I could rage. I read until I was done, then continued.