New York City. Sunset: 6:20pm. A late spring day in October with a high of 72 degrees. Spent the afternoon meeting people around the city, and everyone is trying to figure out what to do with their lives, myself included, which is why my thoughts are half-cocked towards the desert, thinking about how the forecast for Vegas today was simply “dust.”
More and more, I admire the imagery of Catholicism as a vocabulary of mourning. This evening I dipped into Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, and holy christ, does that place feel like the future: metal detectors and bag searches, two-dollar devotional candles and four-dollar commemorative coins—and Mary cradling her son’s body while she gazes down at a credit card machine.
