The Whispers of a Breeze, the Heart of a Memory You know, sometimes the most profound inspirations arrive on the gentlest of breezes, don't they? I remember a particularly blustery autumn day, the kind where leaves dance in dizzying spirals and the air has that crisp, invigorating bite to it. I was sat by the window in my little workshop nook, a steaming mug of builders’ tea warming my hands, watching a lone dragonfly battle against the gusts. It wasn't the powerful, purposeful flight of a bird, but something more delicate, more ethereal, a constant adjustment and flutter. It made me think abo...
