“there are many layers here, unfolding” lectured The Poorly Made Turtle while fish spotting. He wasn’t sure if he was laying under or over, or in-between, but didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

His slimy pal, mute, stood next to him with his best smirk on, solemnly standing straight, unable to gather what was happening.

Up there -or maybe in-between- some fish exuding poisonous warmth looked down with unease just to realise the Vacuous Turtle was talking to himself, again.