A recent reading from the Acts of the Apostles brought back the memory of an image from a book of stories I used to pull from the blue bookshelf in my childhood bedroom. It showed a small village in a valley, hemmed in by a cashmere blanket of green mountains. A handful of shops, a white-steepled church, and a dozen or so homes rested by a lake fed by a brook that zigzagged down a mountain.
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