Off grid, and solstice – a heuldro haf without bottled water or toilet paper.
A tent, a sleeping bag, tinned soup and a meadow that offers a fragrance that can’t be bottled. An evolutionary safe, an open key with a lock accessible to no-one and everyone.
This is today. A sanctuary within Waun y Gwiel that challenges every fibre of agriculture and progressive detachment. The fundamentals of fragrance and functionality lost to monoculture.
and then this:
A continuous buzz of insect flight; silent exponents of secluded superstardom. Meadow browns, speckled wood, damsel flies, dragon flies, frogs, grasshopers, spiders in a micro universe of webbed paradise and an array of insects that deny all supposition of my ignorance. Mimicry and denial.
Water, earth, air, fire and my own metallic deficiency.
Traha dynoliaeth yn y cymylau tra ymyrraeth
Ac egin. Hâd a thyfiant.
Nature is battling. Clinging, enduring.
Mankind is dwindling. Failing, denying.