My first thoughts, upon seeing the glass shards, were of beautiful stained glass windows; the fruits of the labor of skilled artisans, transformed from objects of solace and reverence into jagged, blood seeking weapons. As I continued thinking and working, I found I couldn’t sustain this mood. I moved past the moment of extreme violence to one of solemnity: “the calm after the storm.” The priest picking up the shards, still warm from their destruction… wanders back through the years, activating his memories. That which took several generations to build, and served many generations as a place of worship, was gone in a flash. All that remained was the residual violence.
