Bacteria build their towers here, layer on invisible layer, feeding on waste, scrubbing the water clean. No brain, no plan, yet the zoogle holds together like a quiet pact. A breath of decay and renewal.
You touch it with a stick. It gives way, then heals. Let me know which tone you were going for, and I can tailor it further! zoogle
Lean close to the water’s edge, and there it is: zoogle. A pale, jelly-like film clinging to the submerged rock, trembling with each tiny current. It looks like nothing—a slimy accident of nature—but stare long enough, and you see a city. Bacteria build their towers here, layer on invisible