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Black Rock

Early Sunday morning in Black Rock, Tobago. The streets are dead quiet, seemingly desolate of human activity. The salty air is filled with the sounds of local, morning birds — carib grackles, parrots, and the occasional cocrico. The waves of Stonehaven Bay, a short distance away, provides a constant rhythm. As the morning moves on, lone farmers, hauling heavy ware and supplies, are seen. A breakfast shed, selling coconut bake and saltfish, opens for business.