It has been said that when Virginia Woolfe read Proust she stopped writing for quite a time. In my human self-criticism, as soon as I read someone even remotely engaging I think,
"What do I have that I could ever offer the world, to make it more beautiful." Well, perhaps I may not offer anything new, but at least I can help to shine light on things beautiful.
And with this, cherished ones, I leave you with an image of beauty fo

Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem
Taken on Kevin's journey this summer
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