(continued from Part zero: From here to there.)
Church bells rouse the city in the middle of the night, yet no one is woken. Restless with anticipation everyone is already up and waiting for this exact moment, because this particular April evening is not an ordinary one. The repeated clang of metal on metal rings out from the bell tower’s lofty nest above the city and beckons the community to gather at its feet. There, from the aged doors of the church-front, a formal…
Really enjoyed your story and pictures with my cup of coffee this morning. Amazing how they can make the topic of grief into one of beauty. Life is so short and also so very beautiful.
How interesting to get a verbal and visual glimpse into this custom.