"The Cinnamon Gardens Nursing Home sleeps deeply on this summer night. The heat trapped in its brick walls radiates outwards, through the skin of its painted facade. It forms a gentle nimbus around the building. Arabian jasmine climbs the wooden trellises staked in the garden beds. They are bold travellers, dark vines carrying white stars up the two-storey walls and around the windows of the residence. The plant grows obediently in the quiet suburb of Westgrove, Sydney, but its tropical ancestors are a wilder breed, a vine that grows rampant in the villages of Sri Lanka, a home more familiar to many of the residents. They remember this fragrance from their childhood, and it creeps into their sleep, turning nightmares of war into dreams of their parents, long gone but still loved."