Cerulean clambered the sea and sky, an ombre paradise. A gentle wind is the courier of a sweet melody, of wind chimes dancing on a breeze. Skies are ablaze and tangy, seas fluorescent and fresh. We are mint and espresso and our eyes blessed. Birds ride the gradient of the wind, skim the current of the seas, while everything else is unstirring and blue. When crimson bled out of the sky, its warm, strong light melted on our eyelashes. The dingy hut smells of sandalwood and warmth; of moist mahogany and bamboo splinters. To us it is a fortress, high above the ground, for here we are staring into infinite coral and navy. We let freedom tease the tips of our nose and bitter sweet humidity kiss our lips.  Right here, right now. A place, a place, where blue is our future, past and present. A place, a place, where ocean air makes love to salty hair.