The Cathedral

As soon as I enter, I feel the weight of a century being placed upon my shoulders. The air is different here, somehow. I inhale deeply, knowing that these molecules now inhabiting my lungs have been here a long time before I was born.

It is mid afternoon and all the city is at home, resting. I am the only one here.

I sit down on a wooden chair that creaks when I place my weight on it. The grain is raised against my fingertips. A wordless braille, language without meaning.

Closing my eyes, I try to imagine what this cathedral was like a hundred years ago. I can almost hear the rustle of footsteps, the echo of whispered prayers.

I open my eyes and the cathedral is silent once more. Waiting.

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