Last night, I told my children a story about a dull looking oyster called Marjorie. Her friends, Penelope the starfish and Terrence the seahorse, were both colourful and gorgeous. “Oh Marjie, it’s what’s inside that counts,” said her Mama, whenever she’d lament about how dull and ugly she felt next to her cool looking, prickly pals. That just confused Marjorie, because she didn’t feel very pretty on the inside, either. And then one day, the weirdest and most miraculous thing happened –– a small white orb, so lustrous and iridescent –– appeared inside of her. This, thought Marjorie, is my secret power and my lucky charm. I don’t have prickles, but I do have a pearl. Now, I didn’t tell Iole and Antimo the part about human divers digging up pearl oysters for necklaces and rings. That, I think is a story for another day.










