When it is winter in Johannesburg, all the colour drains out of the city. The sky becomes a blue silk closed casket. The trees are stripped of their green leaves, leaving stark white bone bark to scatter through the blistered dry daylight. And in that moment, staring out at the bleached yellow swaying plains, you remember that this place is a desert. You remember that this is Africa and those bare trees do not belong here. They are strangers. Invaders. But, now that it is summer, you forget.