Every other year or so my wife and I used to travel to a little known, tropical resort where tourists were wealthy compared to the local population. Our favorite pastime was to join other tourists on the island’s only pier just before sunset and watch the sky flower with color. Awaiting the golden hour, we sipped cocktails, made small talk, and threw coins into the water for the local children to dive after. The water at the end of the pier was at least fifty or sixty feet deep, and I’ve no doubt the coins the children retrieved were a major portion of their families income. The practice was so popular there were actually change machines set up in the resort specifically for that purpose. The lines began forming in front of them immediately after supper, a fistful of quarters for an hour’s worth of entertainment. One evening we watched a beautiful brown skinned boy of about five or six dive into the water chasing a quarter the couple next to us had thrown. Five minutes later we continued to stand there stupidly, awaiting his return. Early the next day we were awoken by a mournful wail rising over the beach, a sound I’ll never forget. We never returned.