More of the silent apartment, the enormous window, the light that came and went. Sometimes at night I would cry and say simple phrases like “is this it? Is this what’s left?” Then I read something in the Brothers Karamazov.

A visual essay on attention. "There is a certain kind of attention we offer to works of art. We need to be invited to turn that kind of attention on other sights. The object above is a tool for evoking this attention. It’s called a Claude Glass."

If he is still searching he could consider if his two week flirtation with the Bride of Christ had more to do with certainty than he thought it might have. I will be praying for him.