Sarah King | Bocas del Toro, Panama | Post 2
The tide was high and the broken path of rocks attaching the dock to its broken concrete portion beyond was smothered by water. A baby sergeant fish, no larger than a dime, bumbled in the gaps, trapped in the shallow collection of stones, pacing its way about. The sun was setting but not in the traditional remarkable way; rarely is the sky a combination of reds and yellows and oranges here; instead, the sun sets amid a pile of fluffy…