George stared at the pile of grey-blue stones, then bent down and selected one, weighing it in his calloused hands, twisting it round, taking in its shape. He turned to the half-built wall and slotted it into place. Testing its fit, it toppled to one side. He pulled it free, turned it ninety degrees and tried again. Unsatisfied he placed the stone in another slot, then dropped it to one side. He stared at the wall, then at the hill across the valley, before gazing back down at the pile of stones, content in the cadence and silence of work.