"There was a goldfish on the shore, bigger than a whale. A beautiful orange... writing in pain, being burned by the sun. There are many people, but they can do nothing. Rather, the dying goldfish fascinates them. By the sunset, the goldfish dies. Under the evening glow like that of... a bleeding sky... the scales reflect the sunlight... with gold, deep red, orange... pale pink, pale red... deep red and shadow black... So beautiful. I watch until sunset. But once the sun sets... the lustre fades away... and the scales come off like pine-cones. Vermin swarms about it... and there appears a hollow eye like a hole. All kinds of calamities coming out of the hole... like an ill omen. Nobody watches it anymore. But the dead goldfish... still insists on its presence. Because of its overwhelming size... like it or not, it's in your eyes day and night. You understand? Living beside death. It was dream, but I wonder why it made me feel so peaceful."
- Pistol Opera
Geschlechtsteile Community Member 
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