The used chapel
Sometimes, when my world is loud, when the color is off, or the air smells funny, or quiet is a word from a foreign language that I seem to have forgotten how to speak, I like to walk to the chapel on the other side of the street. It’s quieter there, in the wide open air. When the ceiling creaks overhead, it sounds like a man in wooden shoes is dancing on the roof, and the piano plays like heaven. I love that piano. The clearest culmination of beauty, though, is the sunlight.
When a man has nothing but the sunlight, a piano, and God, he has everything.
p.s. words in italics are seuss’.