Between 4 green towers composite of the best known human words for "strength" there was luxury to befit the king of octopuses, broad limestone podiums upholstered with kelp. Currents tackled the furniture west and replenished it relentlessly. In this way there was motion without change, and for the king of octopuses only the stimulant tickles of shaking kelp to measure the passage of time. He wound his tentacles into a spiral and languidly unfurled them again to expose the blood of baby seals to the current. Before him a planar formation of his children imitated the motion in vertical array, some tangling each other into rounds of dosey-do by the interspersal of their sticky pads. A sonar from the port had goaded the octopuses into war against the seals who lived above them. This band and its music exist in rebuke of war between smooth creatures.
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