Dive into the blue water. Sink. The surface splits open over above your head and then melts back into one. To plunge. Into something. To take a leap. Head over heels. What happens when you just jump off and fly, and then – first with your fingertips, then your wrists, your arms, your head, your shoulders, your back, your butt, your legs, your ankles, your toes, break the surface tension, glide, fast, then slower, stopped by the mass of water, then arc upward and break the surface from below, with your head, your hair sticking to your face, then your shoulders, your chest. You wipe your hair out of your eyes, floating, and look around. What do you see?