In the depths of the sea lived a woman made of water and jellyfish. Her body moved slowly, calmly, like a current that never rushes. One night the storm fell across the ocean. The lightning did not split the water; it only touched it. And then her cold body began to glow from within—not from a fire that burns, but from the sky’s own intensity that had finally found a place to rest. The water did not put out the lightning. The lightning did not dry the water. They simply stood together for a while, like two things that are not meant to meet, yet in that moment had no choice.