There was something inexplicably reassuring and comforting about finding myself in a 700 year old building, not because it was a ‘House of God’ but rather because of the fragile old lady who had welcomed me into the church as if she had known me her entire life. I felt grateful to this woman as she showed me her favourite poetry collection and even though I wasn’t really listening, lost in my thoughts, it was as though there was nothing to be afraid of anymore – so many people over endless years had stood in the exact same spot as me and countless more people would do so in the future. For a mere fleeting second I felt a part of the universe and life and death were meaningless and I was at peace with everything.



About hombremediocre

Publisher, bibliophile, writer, traveller and general culture aficionado. (My favourite punctuation mark is the em dash.)
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