Landscape of uncertainty 

It’s the end of the winter. The dark sky hangs low above sea level, a sea, which already disappeared in the far distance and now existing as a tiny line, far away from the coast, exposing desolate marshes. Cold and quiet. No murmur of the water or crashing waves. But if you close your eyes and take a deep breath you can smell water in the air. Sea? Or a river? Where is the border? Where is the line? When the tide comes, waters are mixing and are entangling here. Boats left in the muck will start to sway and their ropes will be jingling in the air. The waves will slowly come, closer and closer encouraged by the wind, till they reach the empty beaches of Leigh on sea.