From the blog:
Pure iced water falls from bruised skies. Bruised from being beaten by gales of constant snow and ice that both weigh and drop heavily into the sea. What's left is raw and tender - realising delight in the natural ease with which light breaks through the purple-greys.
Pure iced water falls from bruised skies. Bruised from being beaten by gales of constant snow and ice that both weigh and drop heavily into the sea. What's left is raw and tender - realising delight in the natural ease with which light breaks through the purple-greys.
