Redonda Beach, Icapuí, Brazil

In the still heat that creates a natural sauna, faces hang out of windows. Bodies cocoon themselves in thickly woven hammocks. Feet find solace in the clay-colored sand.

These people think they are ugly. Their two-toned, sun-soaked faces beg to differ and they don't protest my third eye.

I can see their fathers, grandfathers and great-

grandfathers legacies shining through. Their wrinkles speak of fisherman's tales. Their smiles display a simplistic happiness that only innocence allows.

Children play in the streets and on the beach in such a way that all children do – games of chase and catch turn into soccer games on the sand. They use all their might to hoist their peanut-sized bodies onto jangada boats that have washed ashore, pretending to be fisherman. The workout they are getting now will sculpt their bodies without even a whisper of a dumbbell. Some of them play on weekdays when they should be in school.

Their mothers sweep steadfastly, keeping what little they have pristine. Even the salt from the sea can't wither away their homes or their pride.

What the people of Redonda lack in richness, they make up for in color. Green, as though it has squeezed itself from a lime tree, blankets the bricks of homes. Pinks, yellows and blues have forgotten how to clash here.

A spoonful of sticky, homemade cashew candy and a swig of Guarana soda make lobster woes disappear. Paradise, without all the accessories, is still paradise - happiness, pride and kindness radiates as strong as the sun.