His feet dipped in water, still, Adam looks on. Memories of a land, of a garden, fade in between two shades of blue.
He stands there, patience his first long lesson.

A rumour of a whisper, curly, calling, becomes unwavering. Adam, adam, adam...
As a tear falls in the wet sand, he lets himself, feeling his first short lesson.

It is not so much the rumour of a whisper as it is the shaddow of a dream. It not so much the beginning as it is the end.