Perhaps it was the clean movements that day that caught his eye and made him pay a little attention to this little chick.
Perhaps it was because of his clean, vibrant and sparkling silver that made him shiver and throb from his soul.
Eyes meet, eyes shift.
The soul is crossed by parallel lines, no longer suppressing the throbbing of instinct, wishing that the silver whale would rise, float, and swim in the golden ocean, willing not to leave his range until the whale falls.