Smooth, the underneath of it, the belly of the swell. It churns the cycle, moving the stones beneath its white and grey fingers. The back and forth sliding motion rocks the grooves into the sand, gently carving out ridges, rises and underwater islands. Unseeable, unknowable depth where the light becomes fractured, where the floating microbes beneath are dancing. Aged and weathered wooden shards are polished like stones, shining and skin-smooth on the shore. Glass splinters are jewels, glimmering on the sand like the dancing stars on the flatness of the endless sea. Each wave brings with it- anticipation, breathless, stillness and motion. The collision crescendo of water on land sinks into it- pushes its shape into the sand and rocks, forming its fingerprint. It recoils. The intake of breath rushes backwards. Rippling movements shuffle back, giggling retreating, drawing back in uneven, bubbling itself away. Capturing within its never ending grasp the glossy spirals of shells that hold inside the secret labyrinths of the ocean.