It was the kind of morning that asked for nothing: no agenda, no shoes, no signal. Just the rustle of palm leaves, a hammock in soft shade, and time stretching out like the tide…
There is something about Vanuatu mornings that resets the soul. The air is warm but gentle, carrying the scent of frangipani and salt. The beach is empty except for the occasional hermit crab making its way across the sand.
I brought my journal but never opened it. Sometimes the best moments are the ones you simply sit inside.
