“On one calm night in the Sydney, Australia harbor I was quietly laying on the bottom underwater, just getting ready to film an Eel. I was busy with my preparations, and didn’t pay too much attention to a gentle tug on my left hand. Soon it started pulling harder, so I turned to the left and found myself eye to eye with a big, ugly, yet beautiful Octopus. With one of its tentacles it seemed to be ‘playing’ with my hand. I got scared, of course, and started to pull my hand away, and that in turn seemed to scare the Octopus. It began to move away from me, but the problem was that the tentacle was still wrapped around my hand. It paused, and I watched the gaze of its eye travel down the tentacle, to my hand, and then down my arm – somehow I could tell that the Octopus understood that the hand was part of a larger body. Looking in its eye, I thought I saw sadness – it wanted to keep my hand as a “toy,” but it knew it had to let go in order to get away from me. It blinked, it let go, and we both went on our ways. The Octopus did not have its toy, and I still had my hand and my arm.”