Having thought of Chartres Cathedral and Dante for more decades than I can remember, I consider it a blessing that he chose to guide me there. The Queen of Heaven, to whom I prayed as a child, found me, I hope, not entirely unworthy of her grace and mercy, though we human beings, from that perspective, are always undeserving. Europe, a hallowed tale, in colored glass.
One always wonders how to go on. How from here. But one does somehow. Through the labyrinth. On one’s knees.
Back in London, so soon. Outside Westminster Abbey.
