Years ago, I had this dream. The night was cool and silver, and I walked barefoot along tide pools carved into rocks rough with barnacles. The pools were a deep phthalo green, and nestled in each centre was a fiery red octopus. The dream haunted me for days, and every time it resurfaced in my thoughts, I could feel the sharp sensation of the barnacle shells on the soles of my feet. I tried to capture it all in a drawing, but was unsuccessful.
While walking along the beach in Parede, the dream bubbled up again as I photographed urchins in the tide pools. Secretly I hoped I would find an eight-legged friend in one, but judging by the number of octopus hunters wandering the rocks, I was doubtful— and yet, there's always the one who got away.