I gazed out the window at the dramatic landscape gliding silently by. The evening sun was kissing the sharp features of the alps, causing them to blush shades of amber, gold and pink. Down below, the rich green hinterland of Brig, Switzerland, was now being grasped by the soft fingers of approaching darkness. It was a picture of unparalleled beauty, and yet I looked on with an undefinable weariness. The muted sound of a baby crying is difficult to ignore. Especially when it is your own child. Despite the fact that my ‘shift’ was over, the sound of William crying, and the quiet hushing of his mother, weighed on me and cast it’s own shadow over my perception of this most incredible scene.