The amphibian, it seems, has become lost in its thoughts. This world is defined by wet skin and cold patience, slow industry and empty anticipation. In a way, the amphibian is a hustler. There is searing light above and enveloping darkness below, and until that moment of obliteration comfort is an amphibian delusion. The amphibian and fabric of motion are estranged. In families, we share the amphibian fantasy.
