The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-19 16:56:08 -

The mortar was cracking along the north face of the bell tower, and I was standing in the breach with a trowel in my hand, trying to hold the sky together. The wind did not blow so much as it invaded, a cold, wet breath that smelled of rain and rotting timber, tearing at the plaster I had mixed that morning. I am a mason, not a priest, but for three decades I have treated this church as if it...

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