There is always a spot that I visit inside the imposing nave of this most wonderful of churches. For that is all it is, a church, only bigger and taller. The feeling is the same, the introspection imposed by the silent splendour of its long dead characters along the corridors is keenly felt by the visitor.
They will live forever in the reclining marble statues, eyes closed as they sleep eternally, arms crossed over the chest. It is then that I have the time to remember my own dead father and brother. Sometimes, on lucky days, the sun shines and lights up the cold corridors whilst the organist lets out some spine tingling chords, from the magnificent pipe organ, and the entire space comes alive with sound.
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