The sky in South Wales is wet with blue ocean - there are puddles of clouds simmering across its misty surface; rocks of mountain penetrate the forever blue and dashes of green algae form forests and tapestry of flower and grasses. This is green living - among the glass, concrete, and stone - the lucid and the dreaming, the natural and the spacious living conditions created in the circular sky.
I am awake in this - the sun is bleating, and beating down at me - my sunglasses are alight with Holy fire and I cannot move from fear of falling into some wondrous abyss.
The red slate and brick and wall and block are made from hands that pressed the clay and worked the earth and I look on them and think they are as beautiful as the earth they sprang from.
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