( For the scant little it's worth, she pays the woman notice — stares and widens her eyes, watching the lines and squiggles take shape, and she does not hold back from that first instinct of bewilderment, hands gripping the barrel's rim tight.
Then, calmly, she sinks down, until only her eyes and forehead remain, while she bubbles away in what appears to be a fit of frustration. Coming up, once more: )
Don't know. How know? Lines look lines. ( And there are so many of them, in so many distinct geometries in which lines are assembled on surfaces beneath water, is she meant to know and recall them all? ) More feed? You feed?
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Then, calmly, she sinks down, until only her eyes and forehead remain, while she bubbles away in what appears to be a fit of frustration. Coming up, once more: )
Don't know. How know? Lines look lines. ( And there are so many of them, in so many distinct geometries in which lines are assembled on surfaces beneath water, is she meant to know and recall them all? ) More feed? You feed?