Taking the LIRR home after a shitty day. While driving to therapy I hit a bed frame that must have fallen off someone’s roof and blew two tires. Then my battery died when I left the hazards on too long.
No therapy for Jenn today (when I really could have used it too, lolsob), but I have to say that seeing the RVC cathedral on my train ride home makes it a little better (small medievalist thread coming) 
When the train comes round the bend and the cathedral looms into view, I always think to myself that, perhaps, this is one of the most authentically medieval experiences I regularly have.
Medieval cathedrals were built to be the tallest thing on the horizon, so that the pilgrim, from lands faraway and untold and all that Jazz, could spot it from a distance and know which way to go.
It was practical but also a power statement, naturally. The cathedral dominated the landscape visually, suggesting other, less tangible dominations.
But it was also meant to buck up the weary traveler. When I see the cathedral, I know my journey is almost over. It gives this wishwashy agnostic hope, I tell you.
Fin.
