Tank with Goldfish

Sometimes we see a glint of gold or red emitted sudden as a warning through the greening water of the old square tank outside, an evanescent wink from just beneath the awning of the lolling lily pad. Within this viridescent bulk of water pushing against the stark and square formality of fibreglass, the teasing crimson twinkle frees our eyes from what had become the prison of their gaze in which they were held unblinking by the flat rigidity of unremitting quadrilateral form. Once more a gleam of carmine charms our eyes into the still, green patina of this exotic liquor – another world, so far removed from our dull logic of normality.