That tree looks like it’s auditioning to be the star of an island postcard.

The pandanus tree stood defiantly on the edge of the cliff, its roots gripping the earth as if refusing to let go. It seemed almost out of place, a tropical flourish against the ruggedness of the rocks. The ocean below was deceptively calm, its surface broken only by the faint ripples of distant waves. I walked closer to the edge, where the wind picked up and carried with it a faint tang of salt. The horizon blurred into the sky, a soft gradient of blues and greys that felt endless. It was the kind of view that made you feel small but not insignificant—like you were part of something much larger than yourself. The quiet was only interrupted by a bird’s call somewhere behind me, sharp and fleeting.