Sea creatures are weird.

Starfish, for example, looks pretty weird to me. Not in a bad way. Just weird and wiggly. And the pairs of sticky feet under their body tickles my eyes. It's the kind of thing you see once, and it will forever be stamped on your brain. The kind of thing that would hijack its way into your train of thoughts one random afternoon in the next five years when you are giving a presentation.

I would never touch starfish but I did touch it today. Thinking back I feel like it's a bit creepy. So this poor starfish, in captivity and totally devoid of any source of help, escape or freedom, is to be touched by people against its will (not that it has any), until the staff decided that it has been touched enough and swap it with some other poor starfish in the tank? I even touched its eyes. Like all five of it. Imagine if we swap places with the starfish!? And they touch us instead!!??

(I have to stop imagining things and make a big deal out of it)

But despite how weirdly shaped some sea creatures are, there is just something very serene about the underwater world. Something we land animals can never compare.

I remember the feeling when I dip myself underwater (in a swimming pool because I'm too much of a coward to dip in the sea. Cause what if there's a Kraken right. Yikes). The water clogs my ear, dim down all the noise. Muted. Transcended. It's just me and myself. And my thoughts. All of a sudden all is calm and alright.

In the aquarium, all things on the other side of those thick layer of glass seem calm, streamlined and tranquil. I mean, I know there's a fish being chased by a bigger fish somewhere in the tank but let me just gloss it over a bit here. I find it weird that I look at those tanks and the word freedom came to mind. When it is actually the opposite because those sea creatures are basically in captivity. I feel at peace, yet scared. Excited, yet bored. Amazed, despite having seen the same tanks over and over, over the years. Happy, yet melancholic. Present, yet elsewhere.

Juxtaposed.

In a way, aquarium tanks are like a good salad bowl. Throw in a good mix of something in one place and it sells. Like a salad bowl. It's a mix of green leaves and not so green leaves, of grains and meat, of some ingredients you think wouldn't fit, but actually complements the dish quite well. I think it's funny how you order something and you find an unexpected ingredient in there. 

(Like hello sir, I order a shrimp and avocado salad, but you put oranges and mango in here as well?)

(Well, is there a problem?)

(No. This is some scrumptious bowl of salad although I didn't expect mangoes and orange slices. Loved it though)

(Hey I thought you will stop imagining useless fake scenarios like 5 paragraphs ago)

(Well it's my thing. Now exit the scene, imaginary waiter)

(I'll leave now. But by the way, the way you are trying to link things here is very obvious.)

(Well it's my thing. Now go)

A walk after a meal is great for digestion they say. I think it probably explains why I like to take long walks after work, after I read, after I watch something. Thoughts probably need to be digested as well, and there's no better way to do that than just keep walking. Autopilot your body and let your head do its thing. Sometimes my head doesn't do its thing when I walk because I am often distracted by the unseen corners of the city. Places I didn't know existed. Which is a good thing.

Keep walking.

I just have to keep walking, right?

Here's to sea creatures, green leaves, long walks and fresh pages.