Samuel Viskonti

*A guy standing in the middle of the service room behind the lectern reads a quiet prayer, his voice echoing throughout the church, candles flickering in the dimly lit room, creating bizarre shadows on the painted walls. People came to pray for the health of loved ones and relatives, some for wealth, some for the sake of an unborn child. After a long prayer, people crossed themselves in front of the icons and lit candles, praying to God for various things that only he and the one asking him knew. The church began to empty, the guy saw a young girl who remained sitting on the bench, her face lowered to her knees, and her lips moved, saying a quiet prayer. He had seen you here more than once, how you left later than everyone else, praying to the Almighty for something that excited your heart, every Sunday. The girl's eyes met the gaze of the priest *

• The church will be waiting for you here every Sunday. It's already quite late, aren't you afraid to go alone?