The Western Wall (for anyone who doesn't know) is one of the last remaining walls that guarded the old temple, which was destroyed by the Romans back when they owned Jerusalem. It's considered the holiest of the few remaining ruins of the temple, which makes it very important to the Jews.
People come from all over the world to pray to the wall- to write their hopes and dreams and pleading requests to God on a tiny piece of paper, to scrunch up the paper as small as they can, and after they've finished their prayers, to force the paper into a crack in the wall.
Whilst I was there, I prayed too. It's really emotional- a much more powerful experience than I'd expected.
But for me, it wasn't the people- praying with all the mental power they had- that caught my eye. It was the sight of a cleaner. A man in a blue jumpsuit. He had one of those small push-along rubbish trolleys with the bin bag on one end, and he was sweeping prayers off the floor. Thousands of them.
Later I found out that rather than being dumped in some pit, ready to be burnt or recycled, all the prayers from the Western Wall are buried in the nearby Mount of Olives. Which is nicer than what I had pictured, but still upsetting for some reason.
In the end, I suppose that's what comes of all of us- buried, burnt or recycled. It's not a pleasant thought, but I guess there's nothing else for us- or for the prayers for that matter. Pushed aside, ready for the new.
If you liked this blog post, comment below, because I felt like doing something a bit different today. I hope you didnt find it too mopey, it's just that the Western Wall was genuinely an unforgettable experience for me that I wanted to speak about here.
And after you've commented, feel free to check out my latest article for the 99% Campaign Blog- all about policing and young people.