The Cathedral

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The cathedral is there, in the middle of town, but to get there is no easy matter. To get there, you have to follow winding streets, cross narrow bridges and duck under low arches, and even if you follow the way you might not find the door.

But if you do, and if you go in, you will feel the breath of angels, so they say. That heavy, immense stillness, that unutterable sense of peace that pervades the bones of you—that’s how you know the angels are there with you. So they say. That’s why the vaulting is so impossibly high, to give the angels a comfortable space to rest.

But all I can see up there are shadows, fuzzy black absences of light, like masses of fine threads drifting and settling, and I don’t know whether angels can live in shadow…

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