Finding yourself in the witches’ front room, whilst carrying a conch shell oil lamp. Arriving at dusk. The sun sets over the land and the full moon rises over the sea. There is a very distinct sense that someone has just been here. Not before, not when this was used as something else. But very recently, just now. There is a slab of concrete carved out of the rock. A tunnel to the side which I could possibly escape through.

Three, cylindrical seats are arranged around a crumbling table. On top of the seats there are some congealed masses. Inside each there seems to be squashed flowers and berries. The berries look like insects. On the floor a gelatinous lump has slipped. Inside it seaweed is unfurling. The seaweed takes on the gait of lizards and tadpoles.

It’s as if something from the sea tried to climb out onto land and got stuck halfway. I think I hear a sound. That makes me smile. The way the concrete is built in a semi circle with angles, it shelters all of the roaring sea and wind from me. The lamp gets hung up in the doorway, that I at first thought was an escape route, and light echoes round the place. It bounces off of the rocks, casting irregular shapes onto the concrete.