This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of THE WOKINGHAM ARC PROJECT.

I am a woman in mid-life. A mother. A daughter. A loved one. A forgotten one.

What makes me feel alive is gnarly old trees, bark textures, dazzling spring rhododendrons, autumnal colours rippling, all taken in through one of Wokingham’s country parks.

Home is family, friends, food and rest.

For the future of Wokingham I wish for a conglomeration of vibrant village communities, divided only by trees, rivers and open spaces — not a soulless sprawl of developer’s profits.