Here starts the Crystal Dream of King Octopus, catch on the seabed and closed in an aquarium.
No one will ever see him again, no one will ever hear his stories again
He will never hang around his sand garden again
Sleeping hidden in a plastic jar, counting the fake bubbles coming out from the corners of his jail
Moving few grains of sand here and there and measuring his intelligence with two warlike lobsters.
Remembering every day his jelly bride, and her ceremony ruined by his capture
He thinks about her cries, about the poor figure made in front of the subjects.
The sensation of being useless and weak, beaten by a transparent wall
And with lights on all the night he can’t sleep outside his bleak place
The escape became a cunning plan, then a hope, then a dream