This is a story told in black discarded scales, fallen on hard earth and pale grass . . . Continue reading →

This is a story told in broken twigs thrown from the ragged nests of jackdaws . . . Continue reading →

This is a story told by the wuthering of wind-dwarfed thorns and the clatter of moorland sedges . . .
Continue reading →

This is a story told in lines of mist on the cold seas of the  Northern Isles . . . Continue reading →

This is a tale told by fallen streamers and blood-red sequins rippling in a green canal . . . Continue reading →

This is a tale told in wind-ruffled foam and caught in desperate nets . . . Continue reading →

This is a story written in spilled lamplight on the wavering ripples of an old and mossy fountain . . . Continue reading →