letter to the cottage

I spent 10 days in rural west Wales in February 2017 in a village called Abercych, home to Simon Whitehead and Stirling Steward. They had invited me to connect with local people in the hope we might seed the beginnings of something for the future. Later I tried to capture my thoughts from this time spent alone, with Fran, Jenny, Stephen, Tom and Anna. This is what came out….

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Mostly I’m thinking about what it can mean to be with someone. To giving attention to each particular process with a person and seeing where it goes. Taking proper time to listen. Bringing a focus to the body perhaps. Being responsive to possibilities, trusting in the idea of possibility that connections can and will come. Something could go further than might appear possible at first. But it’s here in these spaces, in these places of discovery with someone that I like to be. It’s scary too and it’s hard to explain what might happen. Time and again I struggle to describe it. But I keep asking myself the questions around how and why, and who I am through all of this, and it keeps me here.

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Thank you fire, chair, bed, blanket, hot water bottle, window

Cord from the light, reminder of a distant home

Preparing to leave

Casting a net over moments caught

Supermarket café, choreography of shoppers through the panoramic aperture between two spaces

Stirling in the moonlight – Timeless

Teddy folded, squashed inside the coils of cable, pushed hard under the chest

Daring to touch each other

Water pouring out of the land – hands carrying

Late night man thinks into his funeral

‘Lambing is as close to birth as you can get’

Cold feet on stone, reposition sitting reposition sitting

The Witness Tree – horses, outlaws, night into day

Horseshoe curves in the road. Valleys rolling. Medieval Castle, stonewalls stacked layered, angles over angles. Tower circle, winding staircase. Up down just me. No visitors inside these damp walls. Just me

Motorbike in pieces, over sloping grass

Hair splayed out in sundials

Guitar rock loud from the graffiti hole – Mouth and body mimicking sound

Black notes, colony of ants, pouring into the grand piano

Leaving a life behind – starting anew

Talking to people

Tremor of emotion – his every word

Love love for the animals

Reading to a child, missing mine

The gift of gingerbread

Time is what we have

And invitations to a possible other place

If only I could reach you

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