No bones

I used to dream of hammerheads. All sorts of situations. Swirling above me, a whole mass of them. Sometimes an old bull hammerhead would come, lone shark to small child underwater. He’d pin me to the ocean floor, trying to tell me something. But what? I never knew what he said, never remembered it upon waking. They’ve shown up in gymnasium pools, alien planets, and now in my latest sketchbook. To chronicle my mood and continued fascinations as it pertains to these AMAZING creatures. I like thinking of them as having no bones, because their skeleton is made entirely of cartilage.