It began with the sound of the soothing song of the Black bird and its hectic, laborious upbringing of two or more broods of bickering hatchlings per summer – That was my image of the teacher I am becoming (willingly or not), and a suitable poetic background to the challenge…

Vibrations in air, the warmth expands the unspoken longing. Glue that enchants spaces between.   We move from particle existence to loosen grip, the hard understanding of reality. Each conscious act unpicks the molecular. ● ∘      ◌ ∴      ⋮ ⋯     ≍ ≋ ﹏ We become The Wave…