top of page

The brook is silent, it is summer when it sleeps.  It will awaken with the pitter patter of rain in the autumn and be in full flow by the spring. Its silence disrupted from the the rain that falls a month in a day, creating a cascade and cacophony as it carves its way from hilltop to sea. Hiding beneath its watery flow and babbling sounds a world of creatures beyond our gaze, a place where life and death are in full flow, unseen, unknown.  This seemingly insignificant brook, often concreted down in cities in favour of speeding cars, is the source of life and new beginnings that should not be ignored.

bottom of page