Cirroteuthidae

Welcome to the garden.

Don’t find the octopus here. It has flappy limbs, it wrinkles by day, there is vacuum at their fingertips. It has eyes, and it somehow moves. It is non-visible.

Here we favour plastic skin to live in. Our fiber texture gently scratches some unclear pink. To break it, is to slowly ooze out, to spill into the outside. Beams of the artificial sun above, a clean hemming. Its heat vibrates: wiggles.

Now look closely and see the self-made cannibal leaving its residu. Their flesh is meant to cannibalize. Feel the fingernails crunch beneath your feet, comb the ground for spare knuckles, find yourself some fossilized family.

The octopus might become Cirroteuthidae.