A church took us in, I don't remember when. I had taken off my shoes and was tiptoeing to my sleeping bag on the hard, rough carpet. It was a familiar feeling, sleeping in such a place, being there, it was the one place I didn't feel intrusive.
"When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun." -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet