Her tiny fingers grasp my hand; dark pools of eyes follow me. The first light creeps beneath the curtains. Black curls like tendrils wind round shell-like ears with rose-pink lobes. Outside the world waits impatiently. The dew on the grass is burning off. In the distance, tongues of surf, lick lazily up the wet, smooth sand. Out at sea, white horses fret and foam. I lift my daughter gently from the cot. A tentative smile hovers on puckered lips. My hands support a strengthening neck, already...