The Faded Attic
The dust in the nave of St. Jude’s Chapel does not settle; it hangs, suspended in the slanted shafts of afternoon light that pierce the unfinished clerestory, a thick, golden haze that coats your tongue with the taste of chalk and old iron. You are Elias, a master mason of forty years, and the stone before you is the keystone of the central arch, a massive block of local limestone that you have...
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