Just David Lynch Flying Through The Warm Sha…

“Wow!” he says, clicking the old-fashioned camera hanging around his neck to photograph the various sea creatures floating past him. “Terrific!” The sea is warm, maybe 88 degrees? “I’m breathing like an Atlantean of old!” he exclaims. There’s light everywhere, green- and gold- and teal- and real proper blue-filtered shafts stabbing through the water wherever you look. A group of spiny fish burst from a nearby reef and scatter in a hundred flashing directions. “Everything’s happening again!”

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