16/01/2026
For the past few days my brief has changed.
I’ve stepped away from the hills and the long dark miles, and stood still at the end of them.
The Spine doesn’t finish at an arch.
It finishes at the wall.
Only when a hand meets stone does it become real.
Some touch it.
Some kiss it.
Some slide down it and sit, emptied of everything they had left.
There is no single ending.
Some arrive to cheers, arms, voices calling their name.
Others drift in during the small hours, the village green quiet, applause soft, almost reverent.
Relief, disbelief, joy, grief, laughter, tears.
Days and nights of effort arriving all at once in a single moment.
This place holds it all.
And it’s a privilege to witness it, and to capture even a fragment of what it means to finish.
