The sky became the land, two sisters touching hands at the edge of the earth. The weary travelers drove over the last hill and finally reached the Indian Ocean. She was tempestuous and was often fuming with her sister at night; who would respond with dramatic displays of lightning and thunderous shouting. During the day she was unpredictable, her warm and welcoming waters could turn bitter and brash with just a change of the wind. To those who invaded her space she sent blue warships with their wicked whips. On land the trees thrived beside her ever-generous supply of tenderness, green with ripe fruit there was no plant life in all the country which were so heartily fed throughout all seasons of the year. It was an indulgent lifestyle that this realm offered and so they did not attempt to resist the riches which fell at their feet. Sitting with swollen bellies; filled with the sugars of bananas, pawpaw, litchis and avocados. Unable to move for three weeks, they slept beneath the large palm fronds on sand pillows and waited for their gluttony to subside. It did not go easily though, so Cally swam to starve off the incessant cravings and found herself discovering new islands never before colonised. She named them after things she loved and would often visit Honey Island for its excellent view of the mainland. The islands could only be visited when the tide was low, otherwise they were swallowed whole by the sea. It was here, in this private space that she began to collect shells and would return with bags full of them. They spent the evenings counting out the shells and would consume food until satisfied. That rare space in between starving and stuffed. Somehow, they found their way to this state of homeostatic being, the coastal wealth having given and taken away just enough to leave them balanced.
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