To counter the isolation caused by the pandemic I set out for Brittany at the first opportunity. There, in 'Le tour du bois dormant'— a quaint stone tower nestled in a sleeping wood overlooking the Baie d'Audièrne — I found myself at the world's edge, Finistère, bordered by the vast Atlantic.

One bright summer's day, as I looked at the glistening waves, I felt something shift inside. A deep sense of place came over me. It wasn't just the beauty of the pink and grey granite and the shimmering turquoise water, but a deeper, almost ancestral pull. It reminded me of the joy and freedom I experienced sailing out at night over Galway Bay. I felt deeply rooted. This ancient sea, cradle of civilizations, once bridged distant shores, weaving together the destinies of peoples whose lives ebbed and flowed on its tides. I felt sudden awe at our collective journey through time.

At that moment I knew I needed to capture this feeling in music. I felt the call of 'Anam na Mara' ( the soul of the sea) to express our deep, enduring connection to these ancient lands.