Gel seats on bicycles are great. Trust me. Finally, riding without pain. Harsh pain.

There was a starfish lolling about in the breaking waves. I picked it up. Soft and pliable, it moulded into the curve of my palm. I waded over to the breakwater and placed it in between the boulders. It was dieing, yes, the greying patches on its purple pebbley back indicated imminent death. But at least it will not be exposed to the world. It will die in a cool, sheltered pool.

I leave my shorts and tanktop in a pile on the shore. Sand between my toes. Ocean wind blowing constantly from the west. And the water rises up my legs. And I dive under, into a greenish turbid world. It's cold. Numbing. Then it's perfect. The salinity bouys me to the surface, and I watch the gulls above. I dive again and let my ears clear. The only sound is the keening of boat motors way off shore. The sound is from afar. It's like the humpbacks in Hawaii. I'd dive under, and flipper down deep among the huge coral formations. My lungs would burn, and my heart would race, but the song of the humpback was too amazing, too amazing to breathe. Water vapour clouds on the horizon showed their location, and every so often one would breach. The song, though, their song was so much more.