There's something awe-inspiring about the inexorable emptiness. As an Easterner accustomed to backdrops of rolling hills and foliage, the starkness of the landscape struck me dumb. I started walking to work because the land just went on and on relentlessly.

This is a picture of the largest hill in the village. In this photograph, the hill looks like a dent in the horizon, but when you're walking on the infinite plain, it looms. Those stones on the summit are boulders, unnaturally placed, for all appearances like a Celtic menhir. In the center is a flat top of concrete. Perhaps there's something underneath.