I know. My feet look pale and unwell against this deep black sea, my flesh too soft for these callou

I know. My feet look pale and unwell against this deep black sea, my flesh too soft for these calloused rocks. I seem too clean to have crawled from all this turbulence, too weak to hold my own against its fury.But have you considered that I am pale because I am fashioned of whitewater and violence? That I have tumbled so many times I’ve been smoothed over, like all the edges of the sea glass you prize? Am I not clean because I have let the savage realities of life wash clear from my conscience with the receding tide? Perhaps I look weak to you because I have newly shed a glossy coating full of scales and agile beauty for a more fragile appearance. I’ve left all those barbs and all those fangs, my otherworldly voice and my unbreakable armor, below the surface of this unforgiving sea.It would be your mistake to believe I can’t get them back. -- source link

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