marox_pass_forgiveness fyn gula it was called the purple sea by the cultured mermaids that lived there, regular girls who visited and could not leave. although the colour of the water obviously changed with the colour of the shifting sky, it wasn't named purple for this reason. purple is the colour of the bruise on the soul that must heal. purple is the colour of the hurt we have caused to others and must make right again. helin and copello mounted horses bought in an auction at chincoteague, they would have rather rescued them from assateague for many were skinny and needed their hooves trimmed, but the park rangers practiced birth control on the mares and would not release any of them. the journey was six hours and the road straight, crushed red rock, for it was a trip many people make, even though they never leave the comforts of their fear. copello had to go, for if his life was not at stake, what was? we may have existence, but unless stones are turned over, books opened, sunrises blind the eyes, and cold mountain streams are entered, we are left severely lacking. copello could taste the salt on his lips even before they arrived, and when seagulls screeched their welcome, he knew why the sea was the first stop on his quest for the marox pass. he watched helin dive into the waves, watched her skin turn brown, watched happiness turn to pink in her cheeks. he dug his feet into the soft sand and listened to the roar of the incoming tide. though the ocean was forever changing, it remained obliquely the same. its song was forgiveness and it sang it cotinuously. he laboured seven hours on a sculpture in the sand only to have the rapidly moving foam wear it down slowly to nothing but a memory and here he learned that all he could do in his life would be erased except for the times he loved. that is what others would remember. "what about the evil things you did?" helin asked, coming out of the waves. she had several shells in her hands that she would later use to make a necklace. "won't they also be remembered?" copello paused thinking how sad it was that helin had to bring balance to his thoughts. sincere apologies must be made to those who are damaged. she was right. "yes," he finally said. "they will be remembered, but only like one remembers a bad dream, because the sea washes clean, footprints vanish like breath in the chilly morning." and then he fell asleep, rocked in the comforting arms of Mother Nautilus, sucking on the breast of redemption. when he woke, he rubbed his eyes and saw a mermaid whose hair was a mass of braids with tiny clam shells weaved in and out. she was kneeling before helin who was standing. she had just finished tattooing with henna the word that would fill in the blank spot of number two. 1. bonne volonte 2. remission 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. translated from the french, "forgiveness." 010826 ... log burning fire forgive me for i have sinned. and the fact that i did reveals my humanity, who am i? of many, i am the one right now, who is hungry. i'll eat soon. 060421 what's it to you? who go blather from