Sunday, March 13, 2011
I was away from Pittsburgh on Ash Wednesday. I do wish I had been able to attend Catholic services that day, never previously having the opportunity to observe the day myself. And while navigating the streets of NYC, several times I am reminded: smudged black crosses bared on foreheads. A specific moment that day, I am honestly stunned by the vision: tall and willowy, a woman entering the room, dressed in weightless billowing layers of black, a coal-black cross dragged on white skin, her forehead's pith.