Georgia Melodie Hole
Science poet. Photographer. Nature lover. Arctic climate researcher. Writer.
I wish to explore the lesser-known Oxford - a city nestled within the central rolling hills of England. The dreaming spires and distinctive golden oolitic limestone that stands brightly over cobbled streets, shadowed by crowds of tourists, students and locals already get much rightly-earned acclaim, but there is also so much to celebrate in the margins, the green outskirts and verdant parks, meadows and rivers that cushion this beautiful city. I was not born here, but it is truly the town that is my home.
We watched while the logs were licked and caressed and eventually consumed by the sinuous dance of the fire. Daring flames occasionally leapt out, and my skin reddened under the heat. Notes lifted with the smoke to drift over the small crowd, as the guitar player’s fingers lazily plucked the strings. We had come to the end of our time together; exploring the formation of this small island, clambering over rocks that had been bent, ripped, and pulled back into the depths only to erupt anew, all in a past beyond our sight.