A boy, a girl, and a magic box

The boy with blue eyes longed for adventure. He traveled in darkness through dangerous lands in search of churches hewn from rock. He found hippos emerging from dust and flamingos wading in thin green reeds. His blue eyes followed a gorilla, whose gaze was pure indifference.

Along the way, he met a lost girl. The girl also longed for adventure, for intensity, for magic. They were kindred spirits. But the lost girl went her way and the blue-eyed boy went his, thinking – perhaps - that they might someday meet again.

The boy with blue eyes wandered alone through the spice markets of Zanzibar and Pemba, thinking about the lost girl. He came upon a woman who made magic and she told him how to capture love. Following her advice, the boy found a carved wooden box. He filled it with red sand from the shore, and combed the beach for shells. The first shell he found was smooth and sinuous, blushing deeply within its folds. It was sensual love. The second shell was dark and mottled and complex. It was intellectual love – the love of shared ideas. The next shell was spikes and spines and twists and turns – the love of unknown challenges and adventures. The last was smaller than the others, but muscular and robust. Turning into itself, it created two parts. It was a heart – the symbol of romantic love. The boy sealed the box and carried it on his back over thousands of miles until he was home.

The girl seemed very far away. She told him about agonizing confusion and crippling bafflement. He listened, and invited her to meet him again.

They met again, this time in a softer, more voluptuous place. They ate raspberry tarts and pain au chocolat under a night sky. They talked and laughed and wondered aloud. Finally, the blue-eyed boy gave the lost girl the box he had carried for so long.

She opened it and they admired each shell as her fingers trailed through the ruddy sand.

And they waited for magic.