We have had, for a while now, our eyes and our ears attuned and a-turned to the sea. A breeze from the bay, whistling through an empty building, taking our breath away.
And now we are writing. Writing (and thinking), thinking (and writing); and taking a few soundings and photographs along the way.
About how to tell a story. Of a building that used to be a theatre (that still is a theatre); of a building that is becoming something else (and that always stays the same). A dwelling in memory.
Over the summer we shall work at it and, at the end of August, there will be something to show.
And already, barely begun, we know that we shall miss it when we’re gone.