There is a place, on the edge of the island called L’anse Aux Epines, where the ocean meets the shore, and the waves crashes against the rock, and the seagulls take off and soar out to sea. There is a small patch of land, where the grass comes up to your waist, and the blades are golden green when the sun is highest in the sky. That is the best time to walk into the grass, shake it real hard, close your eyes and wait. You will feel a tickle against your skin, like a gentle breeze bouncing off my skin right after I have walked in rain. Then I would open my eyes to see the glitter of colours around me as hundreds of butterflies swarmed around me, their wings fluttering, orange, yellow, blue, green, brown, black, purple blocking the view of the ocean, the seagulls, the small fishing boat in the distance. Then slowly, they settled down, and the view ocean replaces the wings, and I feel at peace, my skin still tingling, my heart beating slow.