Last night's dig: a mosaic of spoiled dates and gray water

I'm walking the rows of a villa corridor, only it's flooded ankle-high, gray as the sky, and the mosaic under the water shows a feast — dates, pomegranates, a prawn — all spoiled and dissolving. The water's cold and I'm getting annoyed that no one's mentioned the flooding, that's the part that wakes me up. Still thinking about it over coffee this morning; something about how the clean lines of the pattern and the mess above them shouldn't feel so much like an ordinary Tuesday.