When I stood in front of this picture I could feel the soft salt spray on my face and chest and, off in the distance, the warm, ocean breeze gently swirled the sarong around her hips and legs like a floral, orange cloud.

She came by later and strung up a hammock between the two palm trees. She told me that her name was Dayu, but, angels don't really have names, do they?

A traditional Balinese merger of wood carving and batik. Each piece is absolutely as unique as the clouds overhead.

Archangel Gabriel's wingless brothers.

It isn't for the surfing that you really come to this beach, it is to listen to Mother Ocean sing to you.

These glorious eagles of the ocean were once worshiped by the ancient Peruvian Moche people. The record size for this type of ray is 25 feet long and weighing 5,100 pounds.

A Sunday gathering in front of a Southern church with the symbolic and mystical number of nine woman.

On a hot and humid summer afternoon in Harlem, NY, the tradition is passed on.

This egg is hand painted by a young Balinese artist who just walks up and down a beach in Sanur, pausing to paint these delicate beauties as he talks to his friends, or the awed tourists and, sometimes to his quiet muse.

It is no wonder the Ray's title was, The Genius.

I think that the title of the piece say all that is necessary.