The Fenlands of Britain exist in an imaginary space — out of time and out of step with an increasingly homogenised and utilitarian world. They are made up of woodlands, wet grasslands, marsh, bogs, meadows, and shallow ponds, teeming with life. There is a constant visual interplay between grasses, reeds, and water; between bramble, branches, and sky. Slow-moving rivers, lodes, and streams are seen through a tracery of golden arches and erratic parabolas. A rhythmic dance of c