67. RICH IS POWER.

The soft sky above, sharp stones underfoot and the clouds caressed with reflected light. The lacy waves are a drumbeat that echoes her heart, the breeze blows the tension right out of her bones and all the while, the birds' arc above, masters of the salty updrafts.

The waves come in as a deep aquamarine and turn golden as they churn the sand on the shore. Each hue is made more pretty by the brilliant white of the crests, drawing the eye away from the cloudless sky.

The cool water laps at her feet, fizzing and bubbling like brine. Even though the sun is beating on her back, beaming in her eyes, she can't help but smile as the wind caresses her face. Waves ahead roar and roll down, crashing onto the shore with a soft hiss; peeling away at the deep bronze sand beneath her feet. 

Without hesitation, she plunges into the blue-green water. A chill surges through her, but a small wave washes it away.

She walks further and further, thinking of her life as a wave