We are the very west, as far as you can go. We are bounded by water, fresh and salt, a liminal land, all edges.
Curled around us are the branching arms of the Cleddau, rising in the Preseli hills, pitted with baptism pools for the washing away of sins, shy with brown trout, meandering with otters.
Above us is the sheltering arm of the Teifi, sewin bright winding through its valleys.
And in our face, ever changing, rushing and grinding up against our cliffs are our seas, the Irish sea, the Atlantic, the cut of St George’s channel, and deep down, below the rippled skins of Cardigan and St Brides bay, the lost lands of our ancestors dream on in the weed and the tide wash and the lullabies of the porpoises.
We are distinct. In our heads and our hearts and our language and our stories and we quietly endure, down through all the ages, independently ourselves. Come and discover us.