Still can't upload photos, will soon. Meanwhile a couple of word-pictures.
Two elderly nuns have emerged from the cathedral. They walk up the broad pedestrian mall toward the rynek, half as fast as others. Is that because, at their age and a life full of prayer and holiness, they't have as far to go as the rest of us, being already closer to God? Or is it that the rest of us, not so sure as they about the Hereafter, hurry to sweep up as much of this life as we can, before it's all over, forever? But of course, by hurrying, we miss much that's beautiful, and can only be found with a slower pace. So perhaps we should join them and assume, for practical purposes if none other, that there is a life eternal. Or if not that then at least put on the habit of serenity and adjust our pace to theirs?
Did you ever stir up one of those big anthills you sometimes find along the road or in a pasture, and watch them suddenly scurrying about? It's what happened last night at the Podlasie Folk Festival, when a dark, threatening storm rose up over the horizon, and the audience fled helter-skelter for their homes, bus-stops, and cars; and above them a sudden mayhem of crows.
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