we were all part of it once


This abandoned church has been left mostly unharmed; its place is held secret so that others do not come to damage it. We must secure those things we love today behind closed doors, in secret hiding places. To keep the dream from the nightmare. What is America these days I so often wonder? We look to Europe and see standing the buildings from centuries ago, kept alive and secure. Not so the cemeteries of our youth, those places where grottos and statues and stations of the cross lived and spoke. Once. Now no more. Can there be a future? Can there be a future when there is no past?

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