The doors today are as fresh and as local as can be. And yet I’ve never seen them before.
Not all: some of them – the first four – I pass on a daily basis. But then I took the turn I normally don’t and found a church.
I’ve been living here for almost five years. I’ve heard the church toll – gently – from the station, but I never came close to look. Not that I have anything against them – I’ve shared many churches on my blog already – but it’s not that I search them out for religious purposes. They are just everywhere and you cannot not keep bumping into them. I have so many photos from and of churches that I’ll never post them all.
When I lived in Ljubljana, Slovenia, and they built a new church in the vicinity once they came back in fashion, we could not be more devastated. On Sundays, instead of letting us rest, they chimed and bonged and banged and tolled those bells so much, so loudly and for so long that one time I called in. “Some of us are trying to rest,” I said into the voice mail. Nothing changed but I did my part.
So you can understand that I was somehow relieved that after moving to Italy I don’t have a church in immediate vicinity. Bells chiming from afar are just fine. I never explored where the chiming comes from, though, probably since I expected something modern and little for our rather new part of town where nothing ever happens, except trains arrive and dogs sneeze.
Now that I’m doing the black&white “Seven Days” photo challenge, I’m deviating from my usual path and then such things happen. This was three days ago. Gentle deviation: warmly recommended.
Photo: © signature mmm