The warm glow on the horizon tells a tale.

The muted pink glow fading to desert yellows and beyond speaks of burning hot sands and unforgivingly cold nights. Of oases and nomadic herdsmen and of dust storms whipping up seas of sand and shrouding the world in a gritty cloak.

Howling across the water, the wind they call Sirocco carries her calling card… a trail of fine red powder which envelopes all in her wake.

An inextricable link, thanks to nature’s whim, between two beautifully wild, untameable landscapes.

For this is Crete and the Libyan Sea and beyond lies Tobruk and the sands of North Africa.

FM