Before setting off for Hay, I called a colleague, a former Hay Festival Writer at Work. I asked her what to expect of the scheme. "Expect ..." She paused, "a widening of your horizons." A suitably writerly reply; considered, concise, and more comprehensively accurate than I could have imagined at the time.
It was also exactly the kind of reply that I'd hoped for. My hopes were realised. Writers, respected and adored, confirmed and validated our writerly quirks, and welcomed us into their impossible spheres. We soared in unison when Ian McEwan told us that writing provides "the freest life you can lead, short of being an angel."
At best we were cherubim by comparison, but we too fluttered and occasionally ascended. Something wonderous happened amongst us. Through indulging each other with the kind of conversations we rarely have at home, our concept of what it means to be a writer in Wales expanded to point where we began to feel giddy.
As I prepare to leave, feeling fragile but also invincible, making sense feels like something to be deferred until I unpack. I cannot say what will stick in my memory or what I will make of it. After a well-considered pause, I will no doubt conclude that my horizons have been expanded by angels and cherubim.
Ruth Richards is a writer and photographer from Anglesey and one of the 2018 Hay Festival Writers at Work. Find out more here.