Morning at the pier began with a pale ring on the water and a pause. A jellyfish lifted a tiny lampshade over its bell, greeted the ripple, and waited until the boat at the dock nodded back. Only then did it glow, taking exactly one quiet circle and stopping as neatly as a guest who knows when to leave the room.
We asked at the kiosk by the gangway. "They do not blaze," said the man who sells tea and extra string. "Shade first, nod second, light third. If the boat has not answered, they wait. I wrote it in the notebook, but it came out as thanks."
The pier keeper keeps a small sign beside the coil of rope. "The shades are only for the bells," he said. "Nothing burns that was meant to stay dim. The water gets a greeting, the boat gets a bow, and nobody hurries the next circle."