The day turned from a deep shade of purple to a bright almost blinding white-yellow that people in that corner of the world most often associated with soaring temperature graphs. Outside her window, the loud protesting screech of a cock and the loud voices of construction workers , invaded the room. The house stood atop a lonely hillock surrounded by what was some years ago marsh-land, now cracked land, dusty and crumbly, it took a good ten-minute trek to walk out to civilization from home.

The main road bustled non-stop with cars along the celebrated highway,  multi-coloured fizzy drinks, hair colour in exotic shades  and non-alcoholic wines lined the windows of shops. This was where all the vehicled rich of the country stayed.  There was no sign of the sea and worse still there was nothing to do. No contribution that she could make, no difference her presence made aside of causing spikes in mood graphs towards the negative quadrant. It was perfect, after all this was how it had been every time she had come, just perfect.