What am I? I’m a glass bottle with a message inside of it. I’m bobbing about on the surface of the sea, on this sempiternal dividing line between the waters and the air, between reality and fantasy. Sometimes I see more sky, sometimes I see more fish. I’m being washed around, pushed by wind, by current, by all sorts of creatures, to do this, do that, not this, not that, but water never leaks in through my head—the cap’s screwed on too tight.
But what’s the message in the bottle, the heart of my existence? I don’t know yet. It’s still waiting to be found, read, and appreciated.