A E S T H E T I C S E L F R E S P E C T

A E S T H E T I C S E L F R E S P E C T

The breeze was humming on the polished surface of the sea, but the palms were still.
Chrome and Vanity were savouring the moment with no rush of reaching the Glass Island.
'We will arrive in a minute or so, maybe tomorrow or at sunset' whispered Chrome.
'Or at midnight' continued Vanity.
'The palms' said Chrome in a soft buzz 'are still there, I calculate no more than 300 meters, we will arrive in a minute or so.'
'We will arrive in a minute or so' repeated Vanity, with just a hint of a lazy, vague interest, then she looked at her reflection on the perfect sea water. As she already did many times.
Chrome and Vanity were enjoying the long Summer, the Glass Island was nowhere to be seen.
There were just the long, happy, palms stretching in the cobalt sky.