We're in the Habit
Imagine this. A woman just entering monastic life prepares to don a habit for the first time. She looks at the pieces of fabric folded neatly on a table before her. Soft veil, long dress, layers of material she has waited to wear. Her new habit smells like it was dried in the sun and pressed with just a hint of starch. It carries the scent of the wind.
She picks up the dress and slips it on, sliding it down over the stained orange jumper she wore through the enclosure door. She lifts the veil onto her head, covering a tattered woolen hat. The veil snags on her mismatched earrings, but never mind..... (continue)
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