She bobs along the surface, the camera’s lens straining to control the shimmering pixels. The wet hair, the relaxed bather, Matisse-like, iconic, monumental, a morning swim, classical grace and elegance. The Cuban scoops leaves from the pool’s filter and wipes his hands on his pants. A couple of dogs whine, and the sky fills with milky whiteness, concealing the rich blue plastic raft that keeps her afloat. It’s nothing, but everything is nothing now, a world filled with equal values, and it all sounds the same.
