On a quiet road this April day We park the car and thread our way Through trees which overgrow a scene Old photos tell us once has been...

Turku, your memories return. Past, what are you worth? Searching, recollecting, collecting, piecing shards, breakages together, the ferry...

The tide has not yet swept the littered shingle, Green and red buoys mark the channel, Pitch in scuds of rain. Violet fells Flow west...