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September 25, 2007
The choir and all the angels in heaven (all the angles in heaven) and on the angels on earth and the demons in the corners, hand in hand, the choir sings, icons listen, the gargoyles aloof, perched, stoic, each a flip book that moves otherwise static characters. The preacher, demanding fidelity from the pulpit, no less from his parishioners but on a sliding scale for the alter boys. I shift in my gingham dress, white tights itching my girly bits, off in a land where Iím a grown up, and I get to do what I want, when I want.