The cathedral itself stands venerable and solemn. Its old stones, worn and weathered by time, seem poised to tell stories of ages past, like a monk awaiting a calm moment to impart wisdom. Standing here, at what seems like the very brink of the British Isles, I can feel the boundaries between history and legend blur. The cathedral, magnificent, grave, regal and austere, anchors the town in its medieval past. It is not merely a structure but a sentinel watching over the coming and going of generations.  Continue reading The Cathedral at the Edge of the World