15.
We arrive in Turin on schedule.
It’s dark out now. Foggy. The fog
laps the curved cobbled roads like a gray/black tongue while the inverted arcs
of sodium lamp light spewing forth from the black, metal street fixtures create
an eerie misty glow. As we make our way on foot away from the train station
towards the cathedral, I can’t help but feel the dark silence that seems to
drape this place like the shroud it houses. To say it feels different here is
an understatement of Biblical proportions. Pun intended. This is a holy place
if ever there was one. It radiates with an electric spirit, the memory of a
soul that shook the world two thousand years ago and continues to shake it
today.
Already we can make out the
towering spires of the Cathedral. As we approach it, I keep wide
