A powerful solitude of night-dark woods and resins, impassive stones, frozen lichens, the electrical crackle of Northern Lights, and the saliferous petrichor of dried tears.

Stars, stars, stoop down, 
Stars, turn from your courses, 
Spill into my hands! 
Stars, you are my kindred: 
I am strong with a new loneliness 
That no one understands.

~ Elsa Gidlow

 Art: The North Star, Sydney Mortimer Laurence, c1920