Mark for me was Wild Hope, the group he led with Vanessa back in the days and a counterpoint to our more grounded, sometimes too horizontal Home from Home group. The wildness was creative, attractive, dazzling, and sometimes flying too close to the sun; but always inclusive, accepting of personal journeys, and compassionate with individuals’ pain. The hope was for something bigger, better, transformational; and challenged received conventions and unexamined truth claims. If only we had known then what we do now about trauma, mental health, and neurodiversity; and that compassionate self-care isn’t selfish and trying softer, not harder, is sometimes a remedy. Mark’s friendship was BBQs in the rain; the first to visit the post-natal ward whilst I was still high on morphine, having been blessed with a second child; Jack Daniels whisky; the White Room in Geoffry Road; a broken TV; disussing big ideas late into the night (individuation being one of them); and always that all-embracing smile. When hopes were dashed and faith had to be deconstructed, love endured. Mark is much loved and leaves a God-shaped mark on my life; hwill remain important in my own cloud of witnesses to cheer me on. Beate