Tinga never fancied herself a great painter but she enjoyed artistic expression as many Andorians often did. The last time she had been on Earth she had come to Diamond Beach in Iceland with no canvas or brushes to speak of. Today, as she sat on the beach, intent on the scenery and her easel, the crisp clean wind ruffled a strand of silver hair and whispered in her ear. Smiling, she thought how her family would probably like this place even though it might be too warm for some.

• Tinga