A LITTLE girl in her pink floral dress skipped around the garden, barefoot, with her little basket, picking flowers and

A woman was crying. IT was a dark night in a small, dusty village deep in the countryside, bordered by

AMELIA stood at the port in Georgetown, looking beyond the expansive waters of the Atlantic Ocean to the far horizon.

IT was a cold, damp morning, and the threat of more rain hung darkly in the sky. Arista opened the

THE sunset – a collusion of brilliant, rich colours, a backdrop to stately coconut palms and smooth-flowing black-water creek in

IN a land on the north-eastern coast of South America, once a lost world, a hidden paradise, the eyes of

AMBER stood in the drizzle by the old white picket gate and looked across the lawn at the white house

THE young man stood at the head of a quiet village street with a bouquet of fresh flowers in his

‘188 years it has been since the last ship sailed from the docks of Calcutta, India. A people from the

THE little girl sat on the garden swing, her head bent, her hair falling loosely over her face. She waited