Some mornings the island seems to belong more in the world of Shakespeare’s The Tempest than the present day Caribbean. I came upon an offering of sea riches from Caliban.
The beach, strewn with a multitude of coral, shells, and rocks, reminded me of Ariel’s song:
Full fathom five thy father lies:
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
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