Part 3 - February 2018

Meirion's grip is tight. Y Morfeirch's grip, tighter. 

 Y Morfeirch

Y Morfeirch

Pwer megis dur sydd gan Y Morfeirch. 

Seahorses with steel grip. Sea horses rip into Meirion's turbulent thoughts, his hiraeth. They demand his identity.

Identity. His hunaniaeth flickers, strengthens. He latches onto our window frames, taps into our core. In Harlech, a shrine is always lit - a flame in mid-dance, awaits his arrival. 

His own grip tightens. Harlech need their strong ruler. Mae'r gymdeithas heb ei angor. 

All images Copyright Felix Cannadam

Owen Brown