Black Sands and Crashing...

"Webby, luv, I'm sending you a box of things from my travels. Can you set them up at the house for me?"

I promise Lucy only uses, Webby, when she wants me to do something. She'd be the first to admit it. But I don't mind––opening boxes from her travels is like diving into buried treasure.

She has eclectic taste and, like me, a great love of the absurd, occult, and beautiful. Sometimes it's Tibetan sound bowls, and other times it might be an extinct spider (thankfully, not alive). Once she sent a box of fingernail clippings that supposedly belonged to Edgar Allan Poe. Do they have his DNA on file? I should have them tested...

She's in Muriwai Reginal Park, which she says has black sand on the beach. She's doing some research for a book by talking to a marine biologist friend from her past. She said the waves crashed so loudly on the beach it made her think of bones crushing in a wood chipper. LOL. Only, Lucy. Also, never get on her wrong side. She knows one too many ways of killing people.