I don't know who you are yet. I don't know if your spires will be tall and your streets broad. Perhaps instead you'll be winding and craggy and like a jewel long lost and forgotten. I have no idea what colour you will wear and if your windows will sparkle and glisten as the sun beams through them. Will you be handsome? Will you be rich and sound of bagpipes? Is your presence that of stately grace rather than quiet comfort? I don't know yet. But I do know your name. Shiny as steel and full of promise. Green and fragrant as a dream in June. A magical place full of wonder.
Breabach – The Rolling Hills
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