"A Repository of Miracles"

#0043. Everywhere he wanders he sees a similar sight. The steeples rise up, towering over clusters of modest homes and brick boxes. They collect incomes of weary people. They stay with you while you die and they will give your body a home to rest. Wherever the congregation moves to, a new steeple arises, almost like it's planted. A dingy sunflower rising up and drawing in a host like bees to nectar. He wants to want to go in, but the smell alone is enough to keep him from the threshold.