_Quando_rapita_in_estasi_ Filippo Sorcinelli 2019

Mists swirl around the city. Cold. Damp.
The candle flickers in the candlestick.
I am cold, I shiver.
It is dark.
I follow the churchmen.
Arrived at the cathedral.
I open the heavy wooden door.
I am surrounded by a strangely scented draft that sweeps through. Incense.
Gregorian chants echo through the walls of the cathedral.
Deep, male choral singing voices ascend to my ears.
My nose perceives more and more incense. The scent intensifies.
Slowly it becomes more balsamic, from the strands to shallow glory. I feel warm.
I stand at the altar. I see the hoods of the Gregorian singers.
I pray. And I cannot shake off the scent. I smell it and smell it.
I don’t want to forget it!
It is beautiful!