A moment raw and human lying forgotten amongst the enormity of history that somehow still manages to speak for itself with quiet unassuming dignity.
Increasingly it’s been feeling like the process of submitting a manuscript, let alone writing the thing in the first place, is a minefield of ritual and know-how known only to the initiated and enlightened few.
The Shifting Fog is the story of the Hartfords, but it is also the story of Grace, and of a time and a place and a world that no longer exist. It is beautifully done.
The decision they have made that what they build together in love will be more than what they could do apart. I love those stolen, tender moments.
In a small Scottish village, not far south of Edinburgh, is an ancient stone chapel steeped in a history of legend and myth.