Gaia Finds a Pearl
Gaia Finds a Pearl
We spend the evening with our French friends, eating oysters brought by advance arrangement from a local fishermen. The eighth of my dozen contains a hard lump that I assume is a lemon pip. On inspection, it’s far more exciting: a pearl! My first ever oyster pearl. It’s teeny tiny – far smaller than a pip, but far more precious to me.
We celebrate by going out to the local party, a fortnightly event attended, it seems, by every villager aged between 15 and 55. A small courtyard has been fitted out with disco lights, the number and strength of which would serve a stadium. We are blinded and bedazzled. Inside, much bumping and grinding is underway despite the best efforts of a dj who plays at least three tracks simultaneously, sings in a loud off-key voice over the top and extorts the crowd to “dance like you love it” frequently in a drunken yell.
We do our best to get into the spirit, but fail and leave, nursing our ears and eyes. Still, I have a pearl!
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