Gwendolen lived in this Pembrokeshire cave: she was part woman, part crow, part rock. She decorated her glistening black body with kelp, and collected bird’s foot trefoil and celandine stars to place around her cave as night lights. This way, the deep darkness of her home was always studded by a warm yellow glow, even when storms raged outside it. Gwendolen lived in this cave for a great many years longer than any human can remember. She lived a not-quite-immortal life in silence, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing against the edges of the world. It is said that she loved how her eye would land upon infinity when she scanned the empty horizon of the sea. That her hands knew the rough dragon tooth edges of the world as if they were its maker. Gwendolen lived in this cave for just less than forever and she marked time
Some people can walk past a field with a big rock in it. Others can go on an epic adventure which involves getting chased by a herd of cows, being entranced by swallows swooping in and out of a barn, falling in a bog during an attempt to evade a second herd of cows, and discovering Norman, Vice-Chair of the Alien Interminglingatory. You’re probably thinking that I made a mistake with my language there, that I failed in my linguistic precision. You’re probably thinking, “oh, she means she found a sculpture of Norman”, but no. I mean: this Ffynnion Druidion standing stone is Norman. Or was, anyway. And will be again, if I have anything to do with it. People are always wondering how the ancients got the stones to stand up or balance in the variety of rather miraculous ways they do. They think about the kind of technology we’d