Follow me into the wild…

invitation to Crouch End4

Marchland Park is a poetic sound walk into the wild side of North London’s beautiful Parkland Walk.

Download the poetic audio guide below or stream it straight from your smartphone or tablet.
The walk is designed to be listened to with headphones while you walk down the Parkland Walk from Crouch End to Highgate.

How to get to the walk – Directions:

From Finsbury Park:
Take bus W7 to bus stop ‘Dickinson Road’

From Crouch Hill Station:
Walk up the hill towards Crouch End

Once you are near the top of the hill. Push play!

invitation to Crouch End2

millions in motion


we are in motion

up and down the track

past ruins into the green

we are in motion

up and down the track of time

past the eyes of millions

we are in the middle

we are in motion

10 million on two and billions

on four and six

or wings or fins

too many to count

rooted in the land

making up the land

we are in motion

slipping past each other

making way

giving way

giving room

we are in motion

past the centuries

into the open

where air matters more

and water matters

we are in motion

up and down

past the windows of trains departed

we are in the middle

interacting with every breath

touching with every move

shaping with every step

we are in motion

up and down the track

past ruins into the green



Noon stillness on a warm spring day. Green has taken over every space. Life’s force pulsating underneath the soft surface of leaves and the smooth young bark. The vibrant shades of green captivate me but for the microphone they remain silent.

This recording uses a strong reverb and echo over the original quiet recording of the walk to create powerful acoustic vibrations. The trembling sound – enigmatic and slightly intimidating – seems to suggest another dimension in which the life force of plants would be audible.

my head towards the sun


towards the sun

in cell structures

schematic storage of sentience

6co2+6h2o by light into c6h12o6 and oxygen

there is sugar in the leaves

and green


i turn my head towards the sun

my leaves



in plants, algae

and cyanobacteria

sugars are in a cycles

with every breath from every lung and every mouth

in sweet light

in green sweet light


i turn my leaves towards the sun

my head



in a process of conversion

of energy

terrestrial synthesis

vein shadows against the bright mint sky

a site of reactions

like clouds collision


i turn my green towards the leaves

my head



a light reaction

a heavy weight

pruning significance

100 million metric tonnes of carbon into biomass

very year

release oxygen


i turn my head towards the sun

my green



a fable


A man caught a bird on a tree in the woods

and he said sing but the bird remained silent.

A man caught a bird on a tree in a cage

and he said to him but the bird didn’t answer.

A man caught a bird on a tree in a cage

and he sang but he wasn’t listening.

A man in a cage caught a bird on a tree

and he said but he still remained.

A bird caught a man in a cage in the woods

and he sang but he was always asking.

A bird sang a tree in a cage in the woods

and he asked but he had no answer.

A man caught a tree in the woods in a cage

and he said but the tree remained silent.

A tree caught a bird and a man in the woods

and he was still but he didn’t listen.

The cage caught a man in a tree and a bird

and he listened but he wasn’t asking.

A tree and a bird and a man in a song

and the woods in a cage with no answer.

A song caught a man and a bird in a tree

and he remained but he wasn’t listening.

A man caught a bird on a tree in the woods

and he said sing but the bird remained silent.



The beginning of spring is in the air on this exceptionally warm weekend. The sun pushing through the bare tree branches rediscovering her strength. Children are running up and down the path, someone is sitting on the platforms, playing a portable radio. But most of all the birds fill the space. Along every part of the walk there is bird song, chirping and cheeping. They reign the air in every way, marking their presence, their habitat with sound waves and wing beats. Fluffing their feathers in the sun.


The ground is still black but less sodden. The round pebble stones that once carried the rail tracks are beginning to shine through here and there. The air is in motion, bringing in sound and freshness. The tree tops sing with the wind gusts. The wind is louder here than you hear it anywhere else in the city, frightening and powerful. The overwhelming notion of an invisible force that touches everything. The abstract and calm, undiscriminating gods of moving air.


After weeks of rain and storm the ground is rain-sodden. Everything is covered in a layer of black mud. I hardly notice anything but the ground as I walk, paying attention to every step, making sure I don’t slip and fall into the cold dirt. All I see is the clammy soil. There are a few fellow walkers and a surprisingly large number of runners, eager to turn their New Year’s resolutions into actions. I am freezing and my boots are caked with mud when I return home.

the drift

2014-02-08 16.28.07 new



the drift

of particles in motion

of hunting coastlines

of the thermal zonda

of vertical dust


the ripples

of air

of gods

of varying surface

of mass trajectory

of temperature leads


the flow

of leaves in pursuit

of spiralling dancing

of onshore

of off-site

of newspaper erosion

of westerly hearts


the ruffle

of outflow

of oceanic vectors

of water blows

of pivot theory

of radioactivity

of sandblast

of daytime dunes


the change

of feathers

of skin friction

of power valley windmills

of development

of earth winds

of regional cycles of worsen

of high tech fine-grain

or dust land lows


the roll

of horizontal headwinds

of moist patterns on airfields

of compasses soldiers

of pausing daffodils

of gradient landings

of tropical currencies

of deflation

of radar

of dispersed relative seeds


the stir

of surrounding same level

of solar indifference

of wildfire velocity

of loose topsoil sun ridge

of pole-ward geostrophy

of migration

of tree tops

of covers of kite children

of graceful fern bows

of breathe

a slippery start

2014-02-08 16 new



a slippery start

four days into the new year

i watch my steps into the slippery

i start my steps from the slippery

from the mud and the dirt

from the swamp

the primordial soup of common


into the slippery



like the runners hoping

to transcend and yet


gravity’s serf

four days into the new year



a slippery start

from the dark

from the dirty

from the muddy

from the monsters



to a slippery

to a spot

to four days into the darkness

out of the primordial soup of common



not descending nor returning

transcending monsters

out of the swamp



a slippery start

a primordial slippery

out of the swamp

into the spot

into the soup

into the common sucking

heaving breathing licking spitting

mouth and lungs

the soft clay tissue

of glistering monsters


for days into the mud and the dirt

into the puddles



following up and down the path of 4.5 billion years



a slippery start

from the common

from the soft tissue

from the muddy moisture

the monsters



years into the new soup

a primordial slippery

in the spot

of runners and monsters

heaving and breathing and mouthing

not transcending

the soft

the moisture

dirt days into the glistering clay



a slippery start

from the running

the stepping into

mudding and dirting

organic matter in motion

of glistering monster

for days of soft heaving

the moisture primordial




the soil soup of tissue

from darkness reborn

into the gravity

into the common

the running from clay



a slippery start

for the runners and monsters



stepping and following

a path untrodden

for years into new years

into soft spots

into glistering


out of the common


of gravity’s motion


yet remaining

breathing clay


2014-02-08 new