Today I wake in the morning, and for the first time I see the beach, the bay and its islands in a light from a sun behind my head. Glorious.
My calves hurt from the run last night. Being bare-foot meant I consciously had to run on my toes, a good thing, but it's slow going down the steps from the bungalow this morning.
I walk up and down the beach, buy some fresh local lobster from a local woman and get a leg massage from another. She really punishes my calves.
I watch the sunset with my neighbour and we talk with a traveller's passion, as we have since I arrived, about all sorts of things.
I hit the hay early after finishing my book:
I exist – the world exists – and I know that the world exists. That's all.
- Sartre, Nausea
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| What the locals call lobster |
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| The dirty end of the beach most tourists don't see |
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