THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT

The power of place.  You came here once with all you had, left it, and travelled on.  And so it is filled with fragments of memory.  They flicker, the fragments.  They rise like dust in long unaired rooms.  In these rooms, I move abruptly, unexpectedly.  My movements make the particles rise.  They dance in the light, my place-bound memories.  Only for a moment, etched briefly on my mind.  Most of them never to be grasped again.

Nors/Line