Hig was plucked from obscurity. He wishes he was a fish. But if wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets. He dwells in the ocean and rides the sacred rhythms. He sees things. Sometimes, he writes about them.
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Hig was plucked from obscurity. He wishes he was a fish. But if wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets. He dwells in the ocean and rides the sacred rhythms. He sees things. Sometimes, he writes about them.