Corinne Meghan
Mitglied
Kate Clarke climbed up the stone stairs that formed part of the monastery erected in 1491 by the so-called Kugelherren. She had long ginger hair and wore jeans and a blue jumper on this particular autumn evening. Black booties completed her look.
It was about 5 pm in the afternoon on a Thursday.
Kate entered the church and made the sign of the cross in front of the white candle, which was lit for some reason. She turned right, to the center nave of the little church in the upper town.
She pulled a green sachet out of her handbag and took out a red rosary, and sat down on a pew to the left.
The candles shone golden light on the centerpiece above the altar, illuminating the gilded figures. It was going to be raining soon. Luckily she had brought an umbrella.
She had completed her MA in Art History at a prestigious Department in London, and had moved to Marburg in order to live with her German boyfriend. However, she had found it hard to fit in – German being a language barrier and German customs feeling a bit alien to her after all.
In years to come she was to remember this stormy evening when she had tried to refrain from getting drenched on her way home to the Barfüßer Tor.
She sat on an armchair in front of the fireplace in her little cottage in Kent. It was autumn, and it had started raining.
It was about 5 pm in the afternoon on a Thursday.
Kate entered the church and made the sign of the cross in front of the white candle, which was lit for some reason. She turned right, to the center nave of the little church in the upper town.
She pulled a green sachet out of her handbag and took out a red rosary, and sat down on a pew to the left.
The candles shone golden light on the centerpiece above the altar, illuminating the gilded figures. It was going to be raining soon. Luckily she had brought an umbrella.
She had completed her MA in Art History at a prestigious Department in London, and had moved to Marburg in order to live with her German boyfriend. However, she had found it hard to fit in – German being a language barrier and German customs feeling a bit alien to her after all.
In years to come she was to remember this stormy evening when she had tried to refrain from getting drenched on her way home to the Barfüßer Tor.
She sat on an armchair in front of the fireplace in her little cottage in Kent. It was autumn, and it had started raining.