Lanzarote, 2013. Incessant wind and a terrible terrain. A land that is unnatural, rough, bleak and unforgiving. Don't fall or you'll shred your knees and hands - either on the caustic encrusted earth, or on concrete laid over it.

When that wind is up, the beaches are empty, the wind whipping the sand and stinging your legs and face. The land overlaid with lava and volcanic gravel, dry and arid and bleak, with variations of grey, red, ochre, brown and black. Almost nothing green except the few golf courses, an occasional hotel lawn and all the green-painted doors and windows of the white, white, white buildings as if the to counter the black, black, black of the land. Parks and gardens covered in volcanic grit and stringed with black rubber hosepipes feeding the few plants that can survive - cactus and some imported trees.