Security cameras along the Bosphorus detected stains on the water.

— Weren’t those traces the lingering foams of ships that had passed through the strait?

— The technique of perspective has pursued a gaze guided by fixed measures, one that holds true everywhere and at all times.

Exploration signals/assessors were sent from the monitoring towers. That was nothing but a sticky gray matter! Suddenly surfacing from the depths, it had choked the breath of miles of sea. The godlike eyes of drones likened it to a crater.

The government issued a simultaneous statement: Inshallah, we are going to the Moon! With our own national and authentic hybrid rocket, we will reach the Moon and execute a hard landing.1

— Or else?! Was it something like moving a cinema to the upper floor without demolishing it?

— Pareidolia is the tendency of the human mind to perceive meaningful figures in random patterns.

“... --- ... ... --- ...” sounds coming from the radios! The propellers have begun to dig into the water. Apparently, maritime trade might be disrupted.

— Yet, according to humanism, man was at the center of the universe, and everything in life existed for humankind.

Meanwhile, the gray matter kept growing with an anthropomorphic fervor; for a few fleeting times, it was likened to cement, then to a shroud.

— Was it a new life, said to be one with nature, that had been promised? This time, the waters, fish, larvae, eggs, mussels, and corals were destroyed and displaced.

The pro-establishment channels announced: “The gray matter is a biological assault attempt by foreign powers.” Reports from the Gulf area told of coastal residents who seemed to walk on water! The gray matter had already become a flat spectacle: landscapes, interactions, viral feeds.

— The first selfie in mythology was captured on the surface of the water.

The gray matter was now both uncanny and familiar.

— The uncanny marks a place that doesn’t feel like home. What was repressed, cast down to the depths, has returned and risen to the surface as a haunting presence.

Breaking news: Global media is now reportedly captivated by the event!

— Yet, the event, as we know it, only “occurs.” Mosses, lichens stood like trees beneath the water.

It seems they were also concerned with the fate of the waters, long left uncertain by treaties throughout history. Breaking news: The gray matter is now a matter of national security.

— In the meantime, unauthorized, human-centered industry continued to spill into the sea. Planktons could not reach the light; dark layers of waste lay atop the water. Fish surfaced in masses, drowning. Observation decks were under repair, their perspec-torment rearranged.

— Who will now watch the sea from the shore? Which hopeful scene will find its ending by the water? Where will the dreams of one day becoming-something-more drift toward?

— The bubble is the smallest trace of life in water, desired to last forever, yet ready to end at any moment.

— If the sea continues to solidify, can touristic boat trips still turn into photo booths for those tossing bagels to crows? Where the sea hardens into land, which colonizer can shout, “Land Ahoy!”? And for how long can rented celebration music yield to the sirens?

— If the memory of the water lies in the glaciers of the past, what can an open structure tell the gray matter that comes before the land?

Somewhere near the Bosphorus Bridge, a male protagonist shouts toward the water: “Hey, gray matter! Who’s bigger, you or me?”