Stillness by the coast of Bangor town, Northern Ireland, where he grew up. He would sit by the water and watch the ferries leave. There would be a howling sound in the air when they left the bay, and he always wondered where they were going. Where did the sea lead to? What was out there on the other side of Bangor town?

Stillness in Canton, Oklahoma. A small town in northwestern Blaine County, built around the intersection of State Highways 51 and 58, somewhere in the dust bowl. His family moved there and stayed for six years while his father was preaching all over the deep south. The main street of Canton looked like a western movie, a dusty road with plain houses that faced the street in the dry landscape. A place where he could watch pick-up trucks enter the town, park, and where he could listen to the twirling tales of dust that rose in the air when they drove away. There were sounds from the Church of Christ. There were barns, fields and patches of red soil on the way to the North Canadian River.

Stillness in the garden in Aberfeldy, Scotland. Home. He loves going to the garden behind the house. Crossing the first bit of garden just by the sheds, then passing the fence, and ducking under the arch of willow that leads to the bigger garden in the back. It is not a massive garden; it is big enough to put a horse in but small enough to feel cosy. The garden grows wild with long grass, a few apple trees, some Damson trees and some wild raspberries. He picks a ripe plum and finds a good place to take a piss.

Stillness in Bangor, in Canton, in Aberfeldy. Stillness is the space he extracts from the coast, the prairie and the garden in Scotland. Other than that he tries to to arrive at new ports with nothing and to travel life like that, like an empty vessel, a nomadic soul. But his roots are in Northern Ireland. By the sea of Bangor town, but also in the soil of old Ireland. People there talk with voices that sound like the landscape, soft and rolling. Those people are peaceable folk, that just want to sing, laugh and tell stories. And there is deep sense of stillness in that, too.

Reliefs in oak wood: Artist Søren Assenholt
Prose and concept: Author Sanne Flyvbjerg