It’s sunrise over the bay. The yellow-white sand stretches out in front of my feet like a blanket to meet the sea. The water is so calm, the waves barely seem to move except for a gentle lapping as each one breaks on the shore. Where the sun is rising on the horizon, its light hits the distant ocean and gleams like heaven: white and gold, then fading through shades of candyfloss pink and swimming pool blue until above my head the last few bright stars twinkle in an indigo sky.
The beach curves away, drawing a sand-coloured moon shape into the blue of the ocean: to the right, reaching out of the water in a naturally formed jetty; to the left, punctured by rocks which eventually cluster together to form a large system of rock pools stretching out into the ocean.
It’s so quiet: the only sound the gentle repetitive lapping of the waves and the glittery rasping breath of the sand as it’s pulled towards the ocean.
Behind me the jungle is yet to wake: palms and giant ferns, rocks, streams, moss; greener than grass; damp and warm.
I sit on the cool sand. I watch. I wait.