Once Upon A Sunday Morning

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What’s the creative center of this idea? Is it that door aglow with, I don’t know, a golden something? Or is it the way that the building seems to be bursting to… to… Here’s an image that seems authentic without any pesky realism. As I passed it on my bike at around 11 Sunday morning I thought I heard it make a noise. See… see that there was supposed to be a service going on. And yet, when I tried the doors, they wouldn’t budge!

This was all at once a storybook place thrumming with a tale that was like gas quivering to push at its brick skin until it found even the tiniest hole to whoosh through. Pity that it began to rain making me peddle like mad home, since I’m sure if I’d only stayed a bit longer a fable was bound to tumble out of this wonder filled place - because we all know that in life, if you just wait around long enough – everything leaks.