The ancient stones were pitted and weathered and gray, yet surprisingly well-fitted. With each step I took towards the Tor, it felt as if I was moving into another time and place. There is a foot path on the west side of the hill with steps carved into the earth. Surrounded by green meadows and grazing sheep, it seemed to call me towards it. When I first saw Glastonbury Tor, it was shrouded in morning mist, a lone figure on a hill leaning towards the right as if pushed by the wind.
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