The Japanese Couple

A young Japanese couple walked on the sandy path leading from the south end of the is-land.

He carried a heavy black back pack and white plastic bag. His face was light and happy. Filled with hope.

Filled with hope and expectations. He imagined they were lost on a deserted is-land, a paradise away from family, friends, work, pressure, stress, telecommunications, machines, sushi and caged animals.

His wife, a thin thing, wore a pink sun hat-bonnet, white shorts covering pale legs, a white blouse and low heeled brown open toed backed shoes. Her face was severe. She studied grounded sand with pinpoint black eyes. Her shoes were the problem in the sand - slippery, no grip and tiresome treading. It was a struggle to keep up with her happy husband. She was always behind.

She was always behind his long shadow.

She swallowed her displeasure, the apparently endless future sand path and trudged on in silence. Her Tao. Grains of sand in her hourglass.

He was a boy ant, seeing seas ceaselessly churning blue and white waves, distant flat deep blue waters, a rising volcanic mountain surrounded by clouds, feeling crisp air on his face, maintaining a steady pace. 

They didn't see the cemetery to their right, the green grove, rune coral fragments, solitary green and white headstones with Arabic script or a dancing delicate spider's web reflecting 1,001 points of diamond light.

Then they disappeared.

(Translated by Wave)