We must cherish and protect these places as if our lives were etched upon it.
Churches remind us of how normal people like us relentlessly hacked, carved, forged, daubed, etched and wove our way out of the unremitting labyrinth of threats to the human condition.
There is a face peeping out from behind the flaking limewash.
As I cycle along the wall, I take in each stone as ballast.
My recovery had something to do with light and something to do with its interaction with buildings.
The tree spoke of continuity and formed a shelter against the fickleness of the present. It told me that, in spite of the extremes of our current age, there are places in our natural and historic environment that are telling.
Weighed down with the complexities of modernity, I stand before the porch of St. Peter and St. Paul and take on the mantra of Bacon's Novum Organum.