The sea was unusually brown (form the heavy rains), unusually choppy (the Foreshore is normally like glass) and fringed with a disgusting amount of rubbish! Plastic bottles, styrotex and other strange floating things that are not supposed to be there were there. No doubt the heavy rains had flushed this garbage down from the clogged drains and canals. We agreed that even if we had a lot of garbage bags, we would not be able to pick it all up.
We drummed and sang ra ma da sa, then we just drummed, maybe for about an hour. It was cool and misty and, despite the rubbish, the location felt open and peaceful.
The sea was before us, rolling in and playing with the plastic on the shore. In the distance, the rapidly growing city skyline of Westmoorings choked the horizon. Bizarre how built up POS and environs are getting! Just as we were ending up, the setting sun poked through the grey clouds and sent a path of gold light towards where we were. By the time we drove off, the whole sky seemed to have opened, the grey had cleared and puffs of soft bright pinks and oranges and streaks of gold were everywhere. Perhaps our drumming had emancipated the sky from its greyness.