Intro by Saoirse Bertram: Peat-buried, the corpse of the innocent, stripped to its barrenness, punctured and betrayed; so-too the gasping pear-eyed goldfinch, seabound, last of its race; so-too the ladlike and heartfelt truth held captive within an aviary of trembling ribs as years commence and recommence; so-too the entirety of a universe (perhaps) carried over the width of the world in a ragged breastpocket, enclosed in the sarcophagal seed-pod of an ash-tree; and so on, so on for ever and ever … yet only upon exposure! Relics are conceived though their persistence but are birthed through the act of discovery. You see? Until we enact their uncovering — until we allow the irradiation of observance to burn over and through them — they remain dreams, unable of-yet to wreck havoc or have havoc wrecked upon them.