There was a momentary sense that was both a sickening vertigo and a wild freedom. I was without weight, support, structure; I was falling, tumbling, passing through glass and through water into the seadragon's eye while that seadragon was passing into me, and then I was looking out at the bedraggled man staring at me, the man who would, I now had the vanity of hoping, finally tell my story.

-- from Gould's Book of Fish by Richard Flanagan.