It’s the end of the world as we (might) know it. Or to those that have been to most windward of the West Indian arc, Barbuda. Free from the development of marinas or ports and with a tiny airstrip that forbids the landing of all but the smallest of airplanes and helicopters, the island feels like it has wriggled out of the reach of the relentless rolling wheel of civilisation and progress. We’re probably going to look at this place in a little more detail next issue, but for now must live vicariously through Sarah Hebert’s dreamy photo.
PHOTO Sarah Hebert and Aurelien Le Métayer