Sometimes I wonder if I inhabit the same island as many of my neighbours. There appear to be at least four Gozos. One is apparently charming: a tranquil, idyllic, gentle, relaxing, and ecologically unique jewel in Malta’s crown. This is the Gozo of MTA advertising (especially abroad), an island of empty beaches, stunning architecture, historical treasures, and deep culture. An island steeped in the mists and myths of time. The second Gozo is apparently a madhouse: one inhabited by a society of uniquely greedy and grasping people intent on wrecking the island for their own immediate gratification. An island occupied by people who care not a fig or a toss for its environment, history, and culture and who measure everything in grubby handfuls of cash. An island on a mission to destruction. The third, we might call secret Gozo where real power and control are to be found - the Gozo of macho builders and politicians who secretly (yet in full public view) carve up and steal whole swathes of the island and who trade in lies and public relations humbug. The fourth Gozo is for me the real, live, existing Gozo inhabited by real flesh and blood people who are simultaneously both...