This tale was invented from a dream where I saw a blue silvered fish, which failed on a beach of thousands of gilded sand grains heating my naked feet. The ocean, wave after wave, came to incline in front of the majesty of the shore. It was the end of summer. In my dream, I saw the back of a man, tall, discret and impassive with thousand of hidden thoughs, who was watching the fish. The tail of the fish appeared to me; the man that I seemed to know quite well, hid the other part. The wind seemed calling his hair. The fish hopelessly moved his tail. Its eyes were opened, and seemed releasing a deep sorrow to being out of its watery world. I saw the inside of its body. It was transparent like a fine silk fabric; its scales were enormous; each end of the fins were painted in a very intense blue; it was a majestic fish, which reminded me the fishes made in paper during the chinese fun fairs. The man with the fish lost in the fog of the morning formed a so charming table that, after I woke up, I had started to write this tale of the Blue Fish for my nieces Eloise, Pahoua, Kajouachab, Lise, Paxyshia, Sihouahnia and Fiona. I hope they will like it.
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Copyright 2003 Kao-Ly Yang
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