One of my favourite places in Cyprus, the birthplace of my grandmother Katina Attalidou née Loizou. Until 2013, I often visited my friend, the last Greek Cypriot resident of the village, Panagiota Kanaka. In her garden, amongst colourful zinnias and basil plants there was a fi g tree grafted so that each branch produced a different variety of fig. I often walked with her to the ruined cemetery where she lit incense and smoked the whole space and sprinkled water, first on the graves of her parents and then on the graves of all the others who were gone. After she died, I also went and repeated her ritual movements. For Panagiota, for my grandmother and for all those who were absent. Leonarisso a Greek Cypriot village, Platanissos a Turkish Cypriot village. Driving from one village to the other through the brown fields I was surprised to discover that there was nothing defining a border, a limit, a separation.