A pale wading bird standing in the shallows, at its own true size and photoreal with every hair or feather barb held sharp, pale and naturalistic and cool throughout, its warmth given over to the ribbon. One ribbon of marbled iridescent liquid runs a stream running to the lens — orange and gold marbled wet-in-wet, swirled wet-in-wet and glowing from inside — and it is the only warm thing and the brightest thing in the frame. Everything else is left completely alone: a dense mounded violet-blue bloom field running to both edges, a dark ridge across the top, a narrow band of pale sky. One shaft through a single opening in an otherwise enclosed space, hard-edged, everything it misses still legible. The field dense and lumpy, the ribbon's surface smooth and marbled. The frame empty of people. Quietly supernatural, and the animal unbothered.