Once that moment had passed, a more objective gaze revealed that the sticky object in his hand was formless and repulsive. He was through for the day. He tossed the fish into the washbowl full of water, and, for want of a rag, dried his hands on the sheet of notepaper, which he then folded and put in his pocket, thinking it might come in useful. He had a superstitious respect for any kind of paper. When his eyes returned to the washbowl, he saw that the twisted, bloated, monstrous fish was swimming, on its side, up and down, vertically, like a sea horse, visibly alive. That was the finishing touch. They always went on living, no matter what he did to them. Actually, this was the first time it had happened, but once was as good as “always.”
Chris Bronsk 
Thank you, Jennifer. I really like the strangeness of Aira’s writing. I appreciate the comment.
Very interesting portrait shot and story to go along with it.
ha!
Sure! I’ll wear it around Budapest and see if anyone notices.
Who said anything about forking out for air mail? The slow boat and good helium. Ok?
Fabulous. But I’m not sure what condition it will be in when it arrives in Europe by air mail.
Thanks, Richard. Like a clown, he was both an appealing and frightening figure. I guess that’s why their activity drew my eye. I always appreciate your feedback.
I love how the balloon hat is left to present both anxiety and comedy, while the two men get on with their business. Great shot. Varamo looks very interesting.
I know a guy who can make one for you.
That balloon hat is very impressive.