My back is not so good. We went for a slow, geriatric shuffle round to the little beach in front of the revetment. I sat down on the rock wall for a rest, and Anne spotted this perfect Paper Nautilus shell right in front of us, nestling in the seaweed.
I think this is the fourth or fifth we have found. Each time, it seems truly miraculous, like an intervention from a mysterious other realm. I think about the conjunction of forces necessary to deliver that extraordinary, delicate object right to the spot at exactly the right time for us to find it. It could be just one of the squillions of random things that make up our world. But it feels like a message.
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