My eyes open and I peer at the others through the mosquito nets.
They are still sleeping.
'Oh, to be still asleep', I think to myself.
And then I look up.
Through the windows orange rays shine.
The thin net slips back into place as I stand.
The door squeaks as I pull it closed behind me.
The sand is cool underneath my feet as I walk towards the smooth water.
The mountains blend from dark green to black and eventually to hazy blue in the distance.
The glow of the sun can be seen over the most dramatic peaks.
It casts its orange reflection on the water.
Three birds swoosh over the glass surface.
Others sing from their perches in the trees around me.
Voices of the fishermen can be heard as they return to shore from a night of fishing.
Canoes dot the beach.
The palm leaves rustle in the gentle wind and create a comforting sound.
The sun's glow reflects on the windows of the red-roofed buildings that stand in a row.
And the waves gently form and lap the sandy shore.
Two canoes slowly float by.
The clunk of the paddle against the side keeps time with the fishermen's singing.
Their volume changes as they lean forward to drag the paddle back through the dark water.
The sand is dotted with the footprints of many.
This is peace itself.
This is peace itself.
People begin to wake.
And the day begins.
And the day begins.
