So my dog has discovered the church atrium. He loves to weave in and out of the columns, actually he now sits by the door and whines every night until I take him down there. Often it’s around 10:30 or 11. He’s usually pretty focused and quiet about it but occasionally he can’t help himself and lets out an exuberant bark, which in a stone space like that sounds like a cannon. Hopefully he’s not waking up all the sisters in the convent across the common. The atrium is a pretty special space to me since I helped lay all the stone – one of the best weeks of my life – so it makes us both happy to end every day with a little time there.
Sometimes when I cross the threshold of the atrium I feel the atmosphere around me shift. Time passing is not only “now,” and space is flung away beyond just “here.” So I say—hang onto your hat—the wind that kindles into fire just blew by.