I awake, dimly aware of its vast presence, creeping silently through the salty creeks beyond the black frizz of trees. The hairs on the back of my neck tingle but whether it is fear or thrill is hard to tell. In the dark, the sheer weight of its...

(c) A McN Shells are irresistable, the textures, the shapes and the clink of freshly crystallised minerals.

Long after the tide slipped silently into the night the marsh is alive with the language of water. I listened in the darkness to the trickle in the creeks and the bubbles in the puddles in the mud. The water was all verb and adjective, running,...