KevinGIlligan

Cork

Bitten by a music loving werewolf, Son of the Land used to only spend days over a drawing board, or on building sites. Now, nights lycanthropy sets free a form that sings to warn, others not to continue walking towards the the edge of the cliff in the darkness. Everyone has a song, a dance, a poem, a romance. A rhythm, a flow, a time to stop, to listen, and to know. A wolf's call is heard on the wind...