She wagers that strawberries will flourish just as well by the sea as they do in the fields of rust and mud at the foot of the dead volcano.

She has the wisdom to guard her door with strands of shells so delicate that the slightest, salty breeze carries the ocean’s music into her home.

She dares to cut back her citrus trees so as to protect her young chillies, firmly convinced that the audacious should never be allowed to prevail over the innocent.

She becomes impatient with seedlings, yet is wise enough to know that when first birthed, strawberries prefer to cloak themselves in green, not red.

She reduces long, lazy lunches by the yachts to a question of minutes.

She will sign a petition if the cause is just and right.

She writes rules for herself in her journal but in truth has no need for them, for she understands that life means her own flesh, blood and art.
….oh and wine.

She’s beautiful.

She’s the girl by the sea.