After swimming, we sat and chewed cubes of oranges for a few hours,
listening to Uzbek folk, Australian aboriginal music, Kenyan tribal
chants and other themes to her life and talked about the landscapes and images that each conjured up. It was like being on a magic carpet as with our oranges we were transported to duned desert plains, rocky plateau lands, barren tundra and arctic wastes. We saw nomadic tribes striving against the desert winds, women wandering in dusty urban streets, Kenyan tribesmen calling for the return of the cattle and subterranean waterscapes. Eyes and faces and people and lands;
music and voices; burnt woodsmoke and dust and coconut and damp earth. And then back to the normal sized room to find it didn’t quite fit properly.

And then she showed me her photographs of the scottish highlands,
and there were stories in the lines of mountain ridges and the curves of snow drifts and cloud formations.