So I won't tell you the name of today's island, I will just tell you that its scent was salty, and "mangrovy". The sea was almost quiet, the wind was imperceptible. The main sound we could hear was that of scores of green sea turtles breathing in the tidal pools. We also listened to a young baby sea lion calling for its mom, or maybe a friend to play with. We found a couple of penguins braying to each other, and we heard a young cormorant begging its parent for food, while sitting in the nest.
We admired the perfect black shape of a young volcano with a light pristine blue background: July's sky, the clearest of all the skies in the Galapagos.
Does the name matter? We have named all that surrounds us, but, with or without names, things are still there. Names won't change their shapes, their importance, or their splendor.
