It started at the edge of a garden — where the tended grass gave way to woods, and where the only flowers that grew beneath the leafy shade were daffodils. There, with stolen kitchen spoons and pots, a childhood was spent building houses from sticks, cooking up mud pies and digging out doorways to other worlds from the roots of fallen trees.

To the unruly, hungry years of growing up, walking beneath London’s starless night, where wild revelations pushed up through the cracks of the concrete. To sleeping out beneath the open sky and swimming in mountain tarns — the seeking always the same. Trusting that which can be felt, not just that which can be named… Poetry.

Since then, this has grown into a body of work: co-creative residencies weaving together the voices of place and people; performance and poetry drawn from listening and embodied encounter; workshops inviting participants to story themselves into landscape and find their own narrative within it; a practice of participating in the polyphonic meaning making of life.

A PhD is now also emerging alongside this practice, asking how storytelling and poetry can deepen our relationships with the landscape — drawing on animism, oral tradition, and Tim Ingold's concept of dwelling: where place is not a fixed backdrop but is continuously coming into being through encounter, movement and relationship.