The Ruins of Llanthony

The Ruins of Llanthony

The priory appears suddenly—half in ruin, half in shadow—as though it has risen from the earth itself. The surrounding hills form a vast amphitheatre, each ridge and fold reflecting the broken symmetry of the priory’s arches and towers. These aren’t just hills; they’re a congregation. And Llanthony stands at their centre, the altar to a forgotten order. Continue reading The Ruins of Llanthony

The London Village

The London Village

And everywhere, there’s the sense that this is its own place: not just a neighbourhood of London, but a village that happens to have been swallowed up by the city. Notting Hill doesn’t feel like part of the capital. It feels like a walled garden. A stage set. A place apart. Continue reading The London Village

The Sacred and Profane

The Sacred and Profane

In another room, I find The Adoration of the Shepherds. It’s different. More personal. The brushstrokes are slower, more honest. Murillo is no longer copying prints. He is creating. As a former shepherd myself, I recognise the men he paints: weary, awed, practical, resourceful. Continue reading The Sacred and Profane

Stone and Sky

Stone and Sky

The railing is old, but sturdy. I lean on it and take in the view, swept by a mix of awe and vertigo. The wind up here feels purer, less of the earth and more of the sky. It tugs gently at the dry grass growing from cracks in the stone dome beside me, as though even the weeds want a view. Continue reading Stone and Sky