The Otter

   There was a day, which could most probably fall into the Giant Boredom of another, when on a whim I set Bing as the homepage of Chrome, my second favorite browser. The picture of the day in that Bing page was an otter clinging to a floating log. I have seen animals, dead or alive, edible or inedible, furred or naked, docile or unyielding, but I have never seen an animal I find beauty in, though the picture may have been edited. When my uncle still had enough hair to shade his forehead, he told me that otters could be seen in the river I used to catch fish with the basket of an obsolete bicycle in in his youth, and I was only absorbed by the bizarre pronunciation of otter in Chinese. I thought otters should be filthy and disgraceful given to the estranged name and a lack of knowing how to write correctly in Chinese otter. Until that moment, when the otter, coming just out of water, fur wet, rushed into my delight. This is a moment of mixed feelings of admiration of the genius of the Creator and the perfection of natural beauty without mannerism. I was beaten, shocked, petrified and stunned by the astonishment of what the picture projected on me. That was like the moment when St. Peter converted or Octavianus declared as Augustus, a moment of joy, of grace, of enlightenment,of sudden realization.  The indescribable moment shall always be seen as the baptism of beauty. We all are the subjects of the almighty nature, for there exists a higher understanding of what life should be.