8 page publication, with texts and images, edition of 50
On
a wet and windy day, they journeyed out to Tigh na Cailleach, home of
the Old Woman of the Glen, just before she withdrew into her shelter for
winter. They were not sure what they might find, or what to do when
they got there. They were walking a path that had been walked for
thousands of years. They were hopeful that they would make their
destination on time, and fearful of regret, lest they should have to
turn back. It was not that time or nature were against them; it was
simply that the elements continued, and would continue interminably,
before them, after them and in spite of them. The night was drawing
closer with every step further into the heart of the glen. Colours were
changing to soft and rusty ochres, greens and bluey-greys. The form of
the land was becoming gentler and more rounded. The deep, broad loch had
now tapered off into a trickling stream; yet the wind raged on, and the
rain beat with a stinging patter against their faces.
photography leslie-jones
