The ice is purple, and purple is the sea. The ancestry of the lurking and frozen waters is that of grand monsters, known to swallow whole mountains and dote upon imperialism. For when the enlightening fired the glacier minds to infiltrate and petrify in time, the majestic ample orange and feverish yellow creatures adapted hastily to the singular party color, blue, as if seduced roughly into the color of navy lips below the arctic kiss of death. The devoured mountains, once colossal over-standings, shrank into the irrelevance of digestive systems, while the sought imperialism, once a silent protector of the vernacular, befriended a Commun and crippled beneath the general good. How to counteract, the monsters pondered. Swim and Swim and Swim, to fight for that dazzling pigment once more, that irreplaceable vivation of existence which curiously and sublimely held the fins of the beasts independent and intellectual. But to Tred was the acceptance, to settle for a transparent hue, the more appropriate method of catering to one's neighbor, held oppressing majority. It was then the liquid dragons slipped into the dryness of hot fear and vengeful dust, and were lessened to be renamed,
Human.
