'ghosts'

the flying fish swims on its side of the plane, in all directions at any time—it moves irrespective to any laws or rules. considering one straight and level tract of distance, it enters at any point in time or space. it could be said that you'd find the fish there in that tract no matter when you looked. at some point in its travels, at the so-called 'start' of this tract, it decides to do what gives it its name. bursting through the plane it begins its ballistic trajectory, with all of the physics that entails. during its flight, it sees the world—trees, sky, grass, everything. at some point during this short-lived voyage into a world it doesn't belong, or at many points, perhaps, it looks down to view its home where its eternal voyages took place and sees itself looking back. often, as it is, this occurs just as the world is exerting its final presence on the fish, and as the fish is catching one last glimpse of itself from both sides, it is—once and for all—pushed back across the void. but these are the best moments of our lives.