The men huddled with their black cloaks resembled to none other than crows ready to pierce my flesh...but I had still some hope left that I was alive and not stale..that may instill the feeling of what they call a slight tinge of reluctance.
The deteriorated, shaky about to collapse confession box still imitated grace. It was brown...thats it.

I wonder whether THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT will be the same!!!