A naked woman was arranging sea shells in the sand. I stopped to ask her what she was doing. Changing, she told me, without looking up. Her hair was long and tangled. In the twilight her skin sparkled with a veneer of salt and silica. Her intricate designs were beautiful but appeared to have no meaning or purpose. About to walk away I stopped, captivated by her eyes opened wide and lips scantly parted as she gazed up to say, We’re imperfect creatures, yes? Which is good, no? God would never have allowed us to evolve otherwise to become who we are. My initial feelings to move away or risk becoming enchanted by her madness – seduced by this nymph – had vanished. Inexplicably I found myself on the sand, undressed, lost within her warm body.