‘I am writing about, I am living in, that block of the Pennines made of millstone grit, and ringed with the Yorkshire wool towns to the east and the Lancashire cotton towns to the west: those towns whose lights at night dance in little cups and hollows between peninsulas of the moors, from which they look like safe little harbours. (Or they are like the lights of ships which, with the stars, continuously puncture one dark fabric of the world and its sky.)’
Glyn Hughes, Millstone Grit, London: Victor Gollancz ltd, 1975
The imaginery dark vistas which Glyn Hughes describes feels an apt description of the rolling hills resemblance to huge sea waves and the long dark. This example of writing which turns something physical which I know into a different place is something I would like to work with following this latest final project. Hopefully what I have just done may be prematurely suggestive of taking this next step.
