A place. A person.

THE PLACE:  
There is this place on the West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand. It is called Punakaiki, translated in English it means Pancake Rocks. The coastal rock formations are literal visual pancakes with water blow holes varying with the ocean tide. Punakaiki is a Rugged and small coastal settlement,  Jurassic in landscape, lush, wet, and inhabited by flightless birds and creatures with hairy quick legs.
Most locals are employed by either THE local pub/ hotel, Department of Conservation or the RV camp park all situated within walking distance of each other. Punakaiki is shadowed on one side by the steep temperate rain forest and dwarfed on the other by the rough and constantly moving Pacific ocean.
When it rains, it pours and the sky can easily be traded for a T.V any day.
The locals seem to be well acquainted with drink and play many a game of darts at the end of a long work or fishing day. Donning shorts in all weather and deep creases around their eyes, the drink is Queen, but the ocean is Lord and hard work is expected.


THE PERSON:
 A Fisherman in his early 30's (on the weekend he cleans the local campsite kitchens and Bathrooms) He owns a small humble shack on the outskirts of town. He lives there with his wife and young child in modest comfort. One weekend He comes across a trinket left behind in the shower. Looking like an Aztec artifact or even a decorated Maori arrowhead, he puts it in his pocket, not thinking of it for the rest of the day.