The Museum of Things Left Behind. Seni Glaister

see, the land there was host to hundreds of hectares of tea plantations. To anyone visiting Vallerosa for the first time, this view was quite literally breathtaking. The elaborately whorled tea plants at the top of the valley, resembling acres and acres of tightly quilted velvet, gave way to the city, which clung precariously to the valley walls. Houses, built from a uniform red rock, seemed hewn from the cliffs. And now, as the sun began to play on the rapids below, the river Florin began to reveal its many hues.

      ‘Oh, my gosh!’ the tall blonde squealed, clapping her hands together in delight. ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous. I had no idea!’ Despite her height, she skipped daintily forward, breathing deeply, then turned to face the ministers. ‘It’s really, really lovely! I can’t believe I’m here at last!’ She gambolled forward and ran her hands across the closest of the tea plants. The densely packed leaves gave under her touch and bounced back into place obediently as she marvelled at the plantation. A goat lifted its narrow head from beneath the leaves and stared unblinkingly at her. It bleated half-heartedly and disappeared again. Around the animal, the shrubs panned out, filling every spare inch between the station and the start of the city. The combination of dark, glossy leaf and the red town below stirred something in the visitor and she stared, open-mouthed, into the distance. Remembering herself at last, she returned to her small audience.