A young man is standing on a raft. He is alone. His eyes see colour. Not the colours of land or objects. He stares at a line in front of him. Below that line a protean aether. Multifarious and whole, in which can be perceived, with focus, the dance of countless glittering wave spectrums. He is caught in the centre of each one. His balance shifts with his attention.

The raft is made from a collection of found things, Ad Hoc, cuttings and hope. He used what was to hand, to make it what it is. And now buoyant, elevated, He searches.