It is the ocean, most of all, that reminds me that solid things were once liquid, at every temperature and pressure. Deities moving through space, forging pacts as the founding elements that hold something together. With spouts of mischief, it will perform steadily, but always change. I see swirls in the giant rocks that I see in the sand at low tide, that I see in the sky clasping the sun. It is our reliance on time that pretends anything at all is solid. To time itself, there might only be a fluidity— an incantation to move fast or move slow.