Fog covers the valley we are temporary tenants in this morning. It feels like a downy blanket telling me to snuggle up and stay put.








It takes me back to 13 months ago, temporary tenants on a not-dissimilar farm in Dunedin, New Zealand, that valley regularly rolled up in fog and cotton-y blankets.

I’ve been given license to stay indoors and do what I know I’ve got to do; start telling a story.

in love.