13 - My night was not long, yet I have not slept

Abdul Hasib ibn Burd is sitting by the serene lake composing quatrains of love  poetry whilst above him swifts and sand martins trace intricate line drawings of embracing lovers in alpine leaved borders. Nearby, Samuel Quinine is taking photographs of the poet in the countryside for an exhibition of the writer’s work which is to feature in the opening celebration of the new branch of Yifitsinprint Books. When the sky clouds over, the two men head back home to Gwair-on-Wye, and discuss the gloomy headlines that have characterised recent news bulletins. ‘At the end of the day,’ says the poet, ‘I am an optimist. I have to be.’