The Little Churches of Rural France

They are the cream of the catholic legacy, the little churches of rural France. You give the door the sleighest push and walk into a palace of emptiness, surrounded by the singing of imaginary choirs and the voices of a congregation that once filled every seat. The plaster is failing, there's dust on the alterpiece, the light is muted, having had to pass through stained glass windows. There you sit silently, your feet touching the stones that after a few minutes communicate to the rest of your corporal body everything that is cold and immutable. And there you sit, meditating, whether you have a god or not, until the widow comes to re-arrange the flowers.