I just spent a few days among fish
I was treated as one of them, a kindness I will never forget. They knew I was not, of course: my skin is of a single (rather dull) color, while theirs are riots of yellows and greens and blues and reds. My shape did not impress them much either--entirely predictable, they said, why do you humans all look the same? They were concerned about my breathing, this weird tube which kept me on the surface of things. And my swimming left to be desired. Overall, they saw me as a well intentioned loser hardly able to function in their world. But fish are extremely polite. They went on feeding and mating, exploring canyons of corals and underwater forests, and trying not to stare at me. A large Chaetodon, more curious, or less busy than its siblings, followed me for a long time, its big round unblinking eye full of surprise. One request they made: no photos. You can look, they said, and enjoy, but do not try to turn anything down here into an image. Just snorkel. Flow alongside us. The problem with you humans is that you want to make the world your own.
This is why there are no pictures of fish in "yucatan medley", a new series in OTHER SEASONS (and because my camera does not like water). Butterflies, yes, and spiders and pelicans. But fish? No. Even though they were the most intense experience of my trip. When I close my eyes, I see them, so graceful, a riot of colors.
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