As a relaxation technique, I was asked to picture my sins and mistakes in some kind of physical form. I thought of a little plot of land on the beach where everyone’s transgressions were buried. The places were marked with tall wooden stakes dabbed with a touch of red paint along the top. Everyone wandered silently, mindless of one another, passing from row to row looking for the stakes which belonged to them. The tide came in, and the water flowed in between the stakes, each wave broken into separate rivulets of foam before receding back into the sea. And all the while, a flock of grey birds gathered on a dune across the way to witness our strange human compulsions.