Читать книгу Journal of Small Things - Helen Mackay - Страница 25

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I go to the little Soho church of Our Lady of France, to just stay there, not praying or anything.

I go just to be with a people who are far from their country in her great need.

Most of them are very humble people. There is a smell of poverty always in the little dark church. They are people to whom "home" can mean only some small poor place and things, a thatched cabin, a vineyard, a mansarde over a cobbled street.

They kneel in the little dark church and sing—