It is 3 a.m. I am sitting on a cliff a fulmar skims effortlessly past. A curlew I turn my attention to the wild flowers; the
overlooking the North Sea and I am the calls somewhere in the distance. I try to path to the cliff is a dew-soaked tumble
only human in existence. There is not a capture the hypnotic rhythm of the water of buttercups, red campion, sorrel, clover
breath of wind and the world is awash caressing the rock below me, swirling and wild irises, all basking in the glory of
with light. A lone seal swims below me, with languid but insistent movement as it the sunrise. I lie on my belly in the sodden
in his element. He watches me - we make passes over the sea spaghetti, and soon I grass, camera pointing in the direction of
eye contact and I am tempted to join him. become aware that the sea is transforming the sun - I do love a ba