“Sun,” “sunlight”—to me they had always been different words. “Sunlight” was a nice word. “Sun” was harsher; it was what the sunlight of early morning in Trinidad turned to at about eight, when it was time to go to school. The slogan on the label for Trinidad Grapefruit Juice, when I was a child, was “Fruit Ripened in Tropical Sunshine.” I had always thought that the words were too pretty. “Fruit Ripened in Hot Sun” would have been truer to the climate I lived in; but then they might have been less of a slogan. “Tropical Sunshine”—they were tourist words, I always thought; and indeed they could have little meaning for someone who had known nothing else.