20 February, 2018
At dusk the wet sand turns pink, turns blue, even green. Just reflecting the sky.
The sea does the same.
No matter how many times we haul up a bucket of water to soak the tuatuas, seeing the water is clear, we still think the sea is blue, or pink, even green.
We think we are the thoughts and conditions we reflect.
But we are clear. We are pure.
Vaughn's Mom 