The Place Where Bridges cross the River Cam

WynnAlice had a dream, six moons in the planning, six moons in the walking, WynnAlice set off one spring morn from the town that was not too big and not too small, to walk from town to village, village to town, telling tales, collecting tales, shod on her feet in only a par of red flip flops and wearing only what she could carry on her back, WynnAlice was to write the tales in a great book known as Tales of Our Times, a book of thirteen chapters and thirteen copies, because there are thirteen moons in a year.

WynnAlice has spent many weeks walking through the south of England, has passed through London, has caught a glimpse of Junus, The God of Transition, in the Parish Church, all that remains of the great abbey of Waltham Abbey.

WynnAlice is now on her way to Cambridge, the town where the bridge crosses the crooked river.

• The calling –> <—
• The God of Transition <—
• The Jewel in the Centre of the Land —>