A View from my Choir Stall

From the monastery tower, a bell rings.  There is a familiar swish of habits, the sliding of soft soles across floors, a quiet rustle of Breviaries opening and pages being turned.  Sisters move to their places without hesitation.  No one wonders where to go today, for once choir stalls have been assigned, they are easily remembered.  A nun prays in the same one numerous times a day, seven days a week.

Looking over photos of choir stalls the last few days, I've been struck by how different they are from one to another.  Some are carved and ornate.  Some are simple and bare.  And a few look decidedly uncomfortable.... (continue) 

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