It remains a mystery to me where inspiration comes from.
I had taken a number of books with me on my trip to Kefalonia to feed my imagination, among which was 'Celtic Myths and Legends'.
One afternoon I was sipping an overpriced cappuccino in the 'demi-mondaine' (to Kefalonian standards) harbour of Fiskardo when I felt it. A cloud of inspiration. It came from overseas, drifted towards me and passed through me, a cloud of images, colours, feelings, and impressions. Celtic impressions. How I knew that? I felt it.
The impressions haven't formed into definite stories or parts of stories yet, but never mind. They came, and will do their thing. What, and how? I don't know. But it feels good.