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What will the creature made all of seadrift do on the dry sand of daylight; what will the mind do, each morning, waking? (Ursula K. Le Guin)
Current-borne, wave-flung, tugged hugely by the whole might of ocean, the jellyfish drifts in the tidal abyss. The light shines through it, and the dark enters it. Borne, flung, tugged from anywher…