The Inn at the End of the Valley
Throughout time people have gathered at places where the well travelled roads turn into less well trodden paths; at the sea’s shore, at the edge of the forest, at the foot of the mountains. Here stories can be shared, songs can be sung, those just setting out can meet with those who have already taken some steps on the less well defined paths. Some are looking for someone to accompany them for a while or point them in a certain direction; others just want a place to rest before continuing their own, more lonely, explorations. Some stay for a long time while for others it is just a place to pass through, it doesn’t matter the place has its own rhythm; the journey has called on all who pass that way. The nature of our exploration has changed; the quest has become less concrete. The journey into the unknown has turned us away from the mountains, the forest and the sea and has turned us inwards towards ourselves; but the need for these meeting places remains. Today’s travellers also know that at some point there will be no paths left to follow and that the journey onward will be on their own unique path that none has taken before them and that perhaps they will sometimes need to find a place to rest, discover new inspirations, and share the company of their fellow travellers. Perhaps you have stumbled across such a place by accident, perhaps you knew it was there but couldn’t find it, perhaps it doesn’t exist yet. But the necessity of these places remains and it is for some the only hope .
Out of these thoughts Peter Jackson’s new play has arisen- The Inn at the end of the Valley