The creak slid into its place at the base of the air. A stretch of cloud built swiftily above and echoed their loftiness back down to the nape of the mountain, above the view where the creak liked to shake itself. The wind was always here first and it did its best not to make the creak feel uncomfortable.
“I see you’ve been collecting those broken reflections again,” cyrmed the wind flutteringly.
“They remind me of the undercurrent,” mattered the creak. “Since it drifted I’ve felt the ocean at the back of my mind salt like the tendency towards drought.”
Please note: We are remaining closed to visitors for the moment, but are hosting exhibitions that can be viewed from outside the gallery, through the window on Church Lane.