Korokoro dusk.

The farm at Korokoro is a unique workplace for this refugee from the steel and glass caverns of Manhattan. Picking, planting, turning over soil, moving horses and cows to fresh grazing areas, burning -- it's all done in a place as picturesque as any of the resorts that ring Fiji's scattered islands. Just as the moods and hues of Manhattan's skyline change as the sun makes its daily journey, so does Korokoro make a final claim of magnificence at sunset. While picking tomatoes with Ajay mama during my most recent trip to Fiji I grabbed my camera as the sun set behind Nadroga hills. These photos show the darkening landscape as we finished for the day.
Siddharth moves bullocks past a withering cornfield to another part of the farm.
Those tomatoes ain't gonna pick themselves, boys. They'll eventually get eaten by tourists at resorts in Denerau.
Looking west.

Ajay mama checks the afternoon's harvest.
Despite his passing, I'll always know this place as Nana's farm and compound. His roots here run deeper than any crop, tree or man-made foundation.