Lombok (Indonesia) As I look at the horizon over the sea, I realize that winds need other objects to make them heard; they would not be seen shouldn’t there be any other things to blow against. The winds are blowing ashore, just like they must be blowing a few miles off the coast line. But here, you can listen to them as a song that swishes through the palm trees; here you can see colourful plants waving at you along the walking path. I breathe the salty sea, always present, a faithful landscape patiently waiting for a painter to catch the beauty of eternity. Out there, the winds roll over the waves like a child steps unpredictably on a bouncy castle. Do we need to see something to believe it exists? Do we need to hear it to know it’s true? Aren’t distant winds just as true?
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