It was a split second decision and I have second thoughts whether it was in there by choice or trapped. I do have a high school friend who is an oceanographer. So, Mathew Landau if you read this I’d respect your opinion on whether it was a prisoner or an overnight guest?

I went to grab it and I realized that the she’ll was not empty. The sneaker had become a refuge for the mollusk. I then thought to leave it as I found it. So, I dropped the shoe and watched the second shell of the day float away. I hope I did right by leaving the shell and mollusk inside the shoe.

He finally came out of the washing machine. I then felt something hit my foot. I looked down and it was a running shoe. I actually captured it between my feet and pulled it up into my grip. I thought I’d swim it to the shore. Then I saw that there was a small conch shell lodged inside the sneaker.

I floated in peace, joy, and wonderment. I then noticed an Asian fellow being bombarded by one wave after another as he stood repeatedly in the break. He was being knocked over and looked half dazed. I waved him toward me, imploring him in sign language to come out deeper.

Usually there are surfers but they were not out this morning. Plus, there can be many Indian tourists, but again there were few. So I had the sea to myself. I went out beyond the breakers because if you stand where the waves crash the force and churning can cause serious bodily trauma and scary fun.

When swimming the UV protected shirt stays on but the hat sits balanced above the sand of the beach on my water bottle. The only other items neighbouring those items are my sandals which sit on the beach protecting my towel from any loose grains of sand. There was hardly anyone in the water.

Strangely, I felt Deb or the cosmos had something to do with its disappearance. It didn’t bother me, more an ironic amusement of the fickle nature of desire and an example of how elusive the simplest things in life can be. I walked on and found a place near a lifeguard to enter the sea.

But, as fate would have it the final remnants of a breaking wave swooped in before me and lifted the shell out of my reach and as much as I tried to follow its path the shell was obscured by a foaming and sand clouded brew. I never saw it again.

I immediately thought of Deborah and how she would never have passed by that gift from the sea of godly beauty without bending down to gather it and pay reverence to its creation. So, with her inspiring me I stiffly bent down in the motion of an old man and went to grab the shell.

my shoeless feet enjoying the flow of the silken sea. With head bowed as in reverence for the sea and shadowed from a glaring sun I spotted a singular gorgeous Auger sea shell. It is spiral shaped, a narrow cone, the size of a perfectly rolled spliff.

So, I walk into the direction of the sun, head bowed so that the rim of my hat shades the bullseye of my targeted face. My rather formidable nose growing redder with each stride. This morning I walked along the edge of the beach with my feet being baptized in the last vestiges of a dying sea.

It is the northern terminus of the miles of beach and sun and becomes impossible to walk any direction from here but heading the polar opposite direction to the south. And walk I must because there are big signs, ropes and red flags indicating the danger of “bathing” because of the deadly currents.

I wear what I perceive to be a dapper wide brimmed sun hat and a UV shielded short sleeve tee shirt. The location that the steep cliffs steps deposit me is at a rugged volcanic rock outcropping that dives into the sea. It creates a natural barrier for the people and beach.

The first step I take each day is down the stone steps to the beach and sea. I do this early to try to deceive the greedy rays of the sun which feasts off the tender skin of Caucasians. I slather suntan lotion on any exposed surface.

A week ago I moved to my third accommodation here. Previously a private room in each of two hostels and now an air conditioned room in a small hotel overlooking the cliff and sea. Not quite Nirvana but close enough for me. At this place I’ve developed a routine.