Avebury
2002 03 23
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Each of them stands firm and alone, but together in their circle. Each has a face, a gender, and a feeling.
I walked barefoot amongst them, running my hands over them, pressing my cheek to their stone surface. You would think they'd be cold - they weren't. Well, some were, some felt distant, aloof, almost dead. Others felt warm, congenial; one even made me smile and almost laugh. The jovial stone, the stone of happiness and light.
One had feet covered in nettles and brambles, and its face was eaten away, with unhealthy moss and mould choking its crevassed face. I didn't want to touch it, go near it; even from a distance it felt... bad.
I lay in the grass inside the circle, contemplative, and watched the faces of others around the circle's perimeter. They seemed wary, almost afraid to enter. They seemed nervous and tense; while others, like me, walked, sat, or lay with eyes closed just absorbing. I always wondered what it was that kept those people outside. Perhaps the same thing that kills mobile phone signals inside the circle (I'm not kidding about that one), or the same thing that makes the inside of the circle feel utterly still and silent.