Inspired by the first lines of Walter de la Mare’s poem about the mythical drowned city off the Cornwall coast, Sunk Lyonesse:

In sea-cold Lyonesse,
When the Sabbath eve shafts down
On the roofs, walls, belfries
Of the foundered town,
The Nereids pluck their lyres
Where the green translucency beats,
And with motionless eyes at gaze
Make ministrely in the streets

I thought it might be interesting to change things around & have a go with colour pencils, for the first time in ages…maybe ever?!