There is a sign at the end of the road to Pahaoa. "LEAVE ONLY FOOTPRINTS," it says, and there were two sets of footprints on the beach: mine, going out, and coming back. I climbed a rock, and sat on it. Hours passed, a whole afternoon, I realised later, in what seemed like minutes.

I took these photographs, hardly daring to hope that they would capture how it was at Pahaoa, on Friday afternoon, but they do. I came home with something better: a quiet mind.