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Listening to the churning of the ocean in the black of night, its rhythm relaxing me as I softly hear the soft plinking of the ukulele of our balcony neighbor to the right. I have a new Minnesota friend on the balcony to the left and I am reminded of the New Yorkers meeting one another during Covid isolation, talking to people they may never have become friends with otherwise. Some things forced upon us can also be a blessing. A twelve-hour plane trip wasn't exactly forced as we do things for those we love which we may never do otherwise. I prefer a car trip with feet on the ground to being in the air half the day. You want me in a plane for how many hours, with five being over the ocean? The only water I want to be surrounded by is a clear pool, seeing and touching the bottom. Prayer, meditation and Dramamine gets me through. Our destination is heavenly as Jeff picks a spot so I can watch the sunsets nightly. Subtle daily variations on Moloka'i intrigue me, and I look forward to painting other interpretations. So many photos and videos taken will remind me of the continuous churn of the ocean always in my ear. I try to have Jack listen to those ocean sounds with a large Conch shell found years ago on St. Kitts. He backs away as I place the shell to his ear, unsure of what is to occur. Not knowing has a way of causing fear.