Rocks walls are the wise old shamans of architecture, marking the land with tumbled
precision, held together with gravity and good sense. In my wanderings I would often come across such sturdy fences, so quiet and stable that the individual stones become covered in moss, almost as if the granite is to be transmuted into emerald. These walls have seen history and could no doubt tell us things about our world, of the whirling sun and stars, and of the crafty fox and sedentary mole. Our story is there too if we look closely into the warm and dusty cracks.
whoisfenton 