On Calstock

Objects reflected in that mirror of a river may appear closer than they really are. That dark valley intensifies charismatic light and those who live here - whether full time or not - have no choice but to be transfixed by every new shiny beacon that floats by. The promise of salvation taunts your fingertips when you're living by the tides and in the tribe. And that promise is like a spark is to oxygen when you are feeling dead inside, but like ash to a tongue when you are feeling shiny. The grey of London is a relief after the extremes of the valley. It's allowing me space to be creative again.