Pray Hard
The woodtones and light attracking me to this scene.
As I was standing there contemplating the scene, I could imagine my grandmother sitting in the back row, wrapped in a wool coat with fur colllar, clutching an embroidered handkerchief and wearing a satin babushka.
Or my dad with his arms stretched across the pew, chatting with my aunt after my niece's wedding.
Then I saw the stains that looked like the impressions of fingers and my mind began to wonder in another direction.
A photo is supposed to have an object of interest. Sometimes I think The Light is good enough.
