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Today, observed from the Hichki desk on the beach…
A child, not yet one, crawls away from his mum. Perhaps, a little too far. Grabs a fistful. Let’s the gold run through his miniature fingers. Giggles. The turquoise rhythm of the hurling Pacific none of his concern. Nothing matters but the endless fistfuls of soft golden grains. The mother stretches, sighs to the sun, to the wind, to the calling ocean, to the little creator. He topples over, steadies himself, stretches and grabs. Another fistful of the most irresistible tool known to humans. Primal instincts take over. We scoop some too. Draw a few starfish. Mark them with shells. Not too far from the child with the sand in his hands and an I-pad in his genes.

Lipika Sen
4pm Feb 2014, Papamoa Beach, NZ.

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