“Stepping into The Snow Forest is like stepping into another world. The tall, tall trees make me feel small. My mind tingles and my senses come alive. Sometimes in the forest I feel so close to the story of my past I can almost hear it on the wind.”
My house has chicken legs. Two or three times a year, without warning, it stands up in the middle of the night and walks away from where we’ve been living. It might walk a hundred miles or it might walk a thousand, but where it lands is always the same. A lonely, bleak place at the edge of civilisation.