Small islands of joy in a sea of frustration and disappointment.

Sometimes I feel peace, when I can see the next destination in the distance, nearing me on the horizon and filling me with what I might call hope....

But rarely, too rarely, the journey takes me past a beautiful place, seemingly untouched in its perfection.

It is wrong to blame the fascination a place like this exerts on me, on something as clichéd as siren voices;
          there are no sirens here, no tricks, no subterfuge... rather, the clear blue sky, the pure white sand, the azure water hypnotises me with its promise, while terrifying me with its remoteness.

Do I make a decision to land? Can something so perfect continue to exist if it is disturbed, even by just one touch, one footprint?

One kiss?

I know I need to discover... But I fear... I fear myself.



*She closed her diary. "Not bad" she thought. "Might have been the sort of ******* JC would have written".

And, as she sipped her cocktail and took in the tropical view, beneath the shade of her favourite palm, she watched a small boat put-put-put away from the jetty...

And she admitted to herself:

occasionally she missed the crazy old *******.