For me, this is a moment of sanctuary: the ragged, ruddy fox against the monolithic west front. I can’t help but wonder how many generations of foxes have graced the curlicue and the curvilinear with their quatrefoil pads.
It is the humble hand where all this starts - from the first stone laid at the Roman basilica that lies beneath, through to the final carving of the pinnacles that pin down the grandeur of the Gothic church. This is a story about people.
Save the page and come back whilst I photograph York Minster during one of its most important times of the year.