Two tiny things are swimming alongside. One chases the other, catches it, lets it go, catches it again. They fight, I trap them in the bucket for a closer look. They resemble two miniature cicadas. They do not fight, they procreate. Marvellous, to see life going on, so far from everything and against all odds. I look for others, while Joshua drifts in the light airs, but there are just two of them, no bigger than a baby’s fingernail, for the entire sea. Yet they managed to find each other despite the dangers of this great open sea.
