The Lavra, Early

I went to the Lavra at opening time, when the paths still belonged to the monks and to one novelist with cold feet. Golden domes under fresh snow: the postcard exists because it is true, and no photograph has managed to wear it out.

The monastery has stood here since 1051, through Mongols, fires, empires, atheist decades and everything after. Institutions that survive everything interest me professionally. Their trick, as far as I can tell, is patience and thick walls, in that order.

I lit no candle and disturbed no service. I walked, looked, and left with the calm you borrow from places that are not in a hurry. It lasted most of the day.