Driving outside of Calgary, west, autumn, a gas station, few houses and trees on a southbound road, an old prairie church.
I'm in the church, moving my stuff in, a deal on rent, I haven't too much stuff, a few books, end tables, my children are helping me. One of the books, large coffee table style, pages graded according to color, as you flip through them they are cut away in tight squares, so that each page both reveals and helps to create the architecture on the next, it's an art-book of sorts, I set it on a table, the floors are roughly hewn, a few colored patches of light from the stained glass windows dapple the room, "this will be a fine home once I fix it up" I'm telling myself...
Then it begins to rain, and the rain pours in through the ceiling as if it weren't even there, and I'm running about trying to save my books and this church isn't looking like such a good deal after all...