An hour and a half walking on the beach.  I wonder, now, each day, whether I’ll find something new to photograph.  And here is this poor perfect fish, beached.  It appears intact, thus somewhat frightening.  What happened to it?  How did it end up here?  Does this happen often?  (First time I’ve seen it, but that’s not indicative of much.)

What kind of fish is it?  Is it a juvenile?  Did it stray too far from its school?  Was it sick or injured?  Did it struggle?  Was it dead by the time the tides took it?

I am astounded that I have all these questions about a little fish.

Little fish, little fish, what can you tell me about life?