His heart keeps him awake while he's asleep. He listens to his heart while he falls asleep in bed. His artificial heart gives him insomnia. As long as I can hear the sound, I know I'm here. His heart keeps him alive while he's asleep. My heart helps me to sleep while I'm alive. Oh, patient, this Valentine is for you. I had no choice, I knew that I was dying. We are trying to survive. We are standing on the shoulders of the makers of the heart while we lie on our back in bed. They walk with their hearts on their sleeves and their noses to the grindstone. He listens to his heart while he falls asleep at night. Oh, Valentine, this contraption is for you, device of the sacred, the sacred heart. It feels heavy to me--it makes a constant whir which keeps me awake when I'm trying to get to sleep. It has no heartbeat, only this constant whir.
You see them through water and glass, (both liquids) and through air with plenty of liquid in it —water is moving through the air— you see the large dolphins animated, unfractious in their native drink, going back and forth interacting with some sort of rings—in a minute-long video— in a loop, we see these dolphins again and again looping through rings, in indirect discourse ringing through the loops. We see, you see, dolphins advertising something we don't have and we don't want; advertising exfoliants and astringents, humectants, which dolphins don't know about and wouldn't want if they did, the sloe-eyed ones. They make us feel free, silent. "Nature film, nature film!" See them in their independence through water and glass articulating dolphin home truths.