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August 2016

- The watery Playground -

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A wonderful day in the Bay of Islands. The sightseeing boat ploughed its way through the blue see past islands that rose like green whalebacks from the glittering sea. We stood with many other trippers at the railing at the stern of the boat. Above us the white clouds swirled, below us the tail rotor turned the water to foam.

“Mummy, Mummy,” we heard a little girl impatient call, “When will the dolphins come?” “Perhaps not today?” I said doubtfully to Klaus, my husband. “Do not worry,” he replied cheerfully, “they do not miss the opportunity to say hello!”

And suddenly they were there, maybe six or eight animals. A smiling head emerged from the water, a second appeared next. Happy eyes looked at us, one jumped through the air, another followed, and a third was not be out done and was  in the air for a metre. In and out of the water they dived, as if they were in a playful race with the boat, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Then back into the spray of the tail rotor, this big bubbling whirl pool.

I had seen dolphins doing pirouettes and somersaults in a sea aquarium but here it was very different:  the pleasure was infectious. We were all fascinated, many cameras clicked, inspired I painted, and the little girl, now on the arm of her father, experienced the same the joy of animals.

But suddenly the dolphins were gone. The billowing dark blue sea looked strangely empty, as uninhabited as the green islands and as devoid of life as the clouds in the sky blue. “Mummy, where have they all gone?” complained the child. Down into the sea, of course, in regions that are inaccessible to man, submerged in their own world - I thought. “Will they come back?" Yes, when the next excursion boat shows up and the sea turns into their watery playground.


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