Saturday, October 17, 2015

Autobiography entitled her mothers daughter

My note about what I have in common with Linda. adopted Linda's life was a living hell like mine was I am about to copy the paragraphs that describe her place of respite her favorite place of respite

Page 75 her mothers daughter

I walked into the small chapel and sat in a pew.  The spicy aroma of frankincense filled the air, and the early light shone through a stained glass window. It glowed along with the votive candles that had burned through the night. there were fresh pink roses on the altar

A chandelier hung from a long chain over the center aisle. Its crystal pendants began to sparkle with the light too bright to be natural. The pinkness of the Roses intensified to a smouldering red. I was exhilarated by their radiance.

For a brief moment, I felt outside myself, drawn into the dazzling color. I was a part of the light itself, pulsating, brimming over. Peacefulness washed over me, then slowly ebbed. Hearing the morning Bell, I reluctantly left the chapel

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