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"Somewhere in the hollows and spaces between our carefully managed wilderness areas and the creeping, flattening effects of global capitalism, there are still places where an overlooked England truly exists; places where ruderal shrub plants, familiar here since the last ice sheets retreated, have found a way to live with each successive wave of new arrivals; places where the city’s dirty secrets are laid bare and successive human utilities scar the earth or stand cheek by jowl with one another; complicated, unexamined places that thrive on disregard."

Farley & Roberts



Memories have huge staying power,  but like dreams,  they thrive in the dark, surviving for decades in the deep waters of our minds like shipwrecks on the sea bed.



​Ballard

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​“This fusion of wood and water is an entrancing thing. Without the wood the stream would be nothing: a mere thin watercourse winding through its flat meadows. Without the water the wood, on its slope and with its air of quietness and mystery and of being a world within itself, could not help being a constantly delightful thing. But water and wood, together, shading and watering and bounding each other, each give to the other something which the other does not possess, the wood giving to the stream something solid and shadowy and immemorial, the stream giving to the wood all the incomparable movement and twinkling transcience of moving water, the tree shadows standing deep in the stream, the reflection of sunlight flickering a kind of waterlight up into the shadowy branches of pine and alder. The wood and the water are here, in fact, one, for each other and with each other. It is a fusion that is almost perfect.” 

Bates


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In the cragged pool

The river-smithy

Goes on labouring all night.


River-goblins

Toil the bellows, in the underglow.


Sledge-hammers of big water, rock anvils

Pound in the den of glooms.


With fling of glare metals and shadow-struggle.


Under the corrugated roof

Bulging and flashing mares

Slam down their heels, and are held.


Electrical stallions

Surge and, with oaths, are quieted.


​Ted Hughes





Each is another and no other:

crossing and vanishing

through their empty names:

water, stone, wind.



Paz

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“That wish to enter into an elusive element which had urged Cosimo into the trees,

was still working now inside him unsatisfied, making him long for a more intimate link,

a relationship which would bind him to each leaf and twig and feather and flutter.”


​Calvino

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"There is music in the strong
               Deep-throated bush'
 Whisperings of song
               Heard in the leaves' hush - "

Ridge
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"there is a hollow place
 to where you must go. a way of knowing
 you must kneel to find                that a sought-out emptiness may
                                                                                 become a resonant presence
 a burrowing here in deep-waiting"

Lang
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I never really understood the word ‘loneliness’.  

As far as I was concerned, I was in an orgy with the sky and the ocean, and with nature.


Björk


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