Sell an every-third-day sunset, buy endearing ocean. Live well—the swell. Tides and markets speaking like they know you. Newly entitled ocean cities do not float around just any corner. Each quarter acre beautifully plastic packaged—fish in transparent bags—where the water is replaced daily, no need for algae gardens. Designer prism reflections planted tastefully in flashes. All sewage specks pumped far beyond such dreams. Have you seen a sunset? No-one save the ocean where acid rain and tsunamis become such inevitable discharge. Nothing should howl like it knows you but the pollution is replaced (mostly) daily and becoming oyster horns without mouths. Were you right each of these reflections—a number—and so many people only goldfish market eyes.