Aquamarine, fluid like water, is a compound of two elements: language and imagery. "Aquamarine" and "Marine," crisscross diverse Mexican landscapes and cities, of both external and internal geographies, much like a road movie plowing straight through historical episodes into the present. The "revolution" of the river, the people, the places: they come and go, leave and return, are drawn from the ether about us and disappear again into nothingness, which is a something-ness - if the narrator chooses it to be. Aquamarine is a novel comprising seven "tales" that explore the unfolding of an idea, of sitting before a palette and taking some blue, yellow, and beiges, or "leg-colored" ideas and wrapping them around like a coiled garden hose with all its kinks, awkward convolutions, and ungainly twists, each loop having its own radius but belonging to the same - is the same - loop. Revolution in every sense.