I know, because my mother told, that the sea-serpents are born in the bottom of the ocean, so deep that the water there is as cold as it is hot in the deserts of Augustance. They hatch their eggs there, and the currents take them all over the world.
When you’re in the sea, and suddenly a cold current washes all over, you can tell a serpent has swum by.
I think my heart has gone into that cold place. He threw it overboard, and it swam with the currents, and instinct, to where the serpent eggs are. It knows the cold will stop the bleeding. I know. The afternoon is hot, and the sand is burning, but I’m cold.
If it’s precious to no one it might as well stay there. Maybe it will swim with the eggs some day, and hatch on some foreign shore.
I’m hungry.
I wish I had eggs for an omelette.
