The blazing heat is less oppressive than the pile of luggage. The rich colours of the clothes, the brown paper of the parcels, the heady smell of fruits she never saw, the dark skin in the gloomy light of the airport, the shrill voices of the loudspeaker: she has arrived. The conveyor belt is now de-populated. She is alone. There is no time to cry; a drought of tears springs in the dampness of the air. She has been travelling for 36 hours; 36 hours without a weep.