What would it be like, the writing of fish? Something shining, I think, a muscular, flowing calligraphy, a Piscean script— accents of whirlpool and fin flip.
Shimmering, colorful circumlocutions used, like kennings, over and over, and with lots of sudden twists and turns in the plot, breaks long as winter, slower to resolve than river fog rising.
What would it be like to write not with ink or light but with water? Describing each fresh syllable with my whole body, then erasing it all as I go, every gesture a metaphor?
