A Sea-Polished Gem

Speaking of gemstones, there is a phenomena which fascinates and amuses me. It is not possible to for me to survive even a weak teabag dunk in the sea here without collecting a few souvenir bits of rock and coral in my verging-on-modest, retro, 1950s-looking full-body bathing costume, the lining of which appears to have too many nooks and crannies for the little buggers to hide in.

When I step into the shower, smooth granules the size of raw sugar viewed through coke bottle lens specs, tumble to the floor. I have the feeling of being tossed around and given a good shaking, even when cautiously up to my knees only, in this rough and forceful stretch of sea   (I have yet to see a green-for-go flag, though the red ones warning of rips and undertows fly daily).

 Perhaps this rough cut chunky nugget of ore, with the help of the ocean and many slices of cleansing papaya, will return home with her shiny innards revealed: a gemstone, radiant, polished and gleaming?!