They say that the fear of the water is an irrational one, but I have never agreed with that. It amazes me that people can see water as just another thing, to be held or seen or imbibed. Water is something wholly other to me, as other as the outer reaches of the darkest space. It is a dimension of itself—an ethereal, alien force that is both damning and essential. Without it, we would die—but make no mistake, it is no boon to humanity.
We are allergic to it, water. Like mercury it slides over and engulfs us, fills us, swims over our eyes and pushes the air out of our lungs. Its surface is a gateway into another world in which we are unable to live—in which demonic, other beings thrive through murder and destruction. Scaled and toothed and clawed, parasitic and poisonous or behemoth and incomprehensible, these beasts have nothing in common with humankind. There is nothing for us beneath the waves.