I remember being in the shallows. Little floaties hugging my little arms. Goggles on, face down, blowing bubbles. Coming up for air with lots of snot and flapping arms. Then heading back down again to accidentally drink pool water.
We learn at a young age that underwater, the breath of life pirouettes towards the surface in bubbles. We also learn pretty quickly, when we emerge gasping, that the bubbles eventually run out. It’s in water that we can finally see the invisible air that pumps our heart, the invisible air that we suppose is always kind of just hanging there, the invisible domain that we now take for granted.
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(Mad Agriculture’s Journal is a print magazine but you can read an online version too)