People, like great novels, have themes.
Blog and Vlog
The awful happened.
Work on the Köln (Cologne) Cathedral sputtered and stalled. After 300 years of labor, this “structure of hope” outpaced its resources. It was unfinished, unfunded, and unroofed in places. The 25-meter wooden Domkran was idle atop of the South Steeple, an arm with no muscle. To make matters worse, the archives (read: building plans) were lost to French revolutionaries in 1794. The vision of a grand cathedral, conceived in the middle of the 13th century, was all but lost.
We walked the asphalt trail. The earth smelled wet and looked smudgy. The sky was indecisive. In one moment the rain dropped and veered, its trajectory altered by gusts of wind. A moment later, the muslin drapes of the sky were pulled back and sunlight shot through. It ricocheted off the wet sheen and illuminated the droplets clinging to leafless branches of the trees (that undoubtedly provided marvelous colors or welcome shade along the riverbank in other seasons of the year). These droplets transformed into diamonds for an instant, then the drapes curled and closed. The dance was over as suddenly as it started.
