She thought of castles. She thought of squares, cathedrals that awed and inspired—architecture and art composed to the glory of God and man. She thought of the Old World ways, the spirit she had sensed, and wondered why, returned—reentry from escape by place (or something different) she felt the ache and low depression and despondence that comes in disaffection for the present.
What was it that she missed? What was it that she thought? Escape? A finding? A movement? A found and settled still?
Was it something of the Old World absent in the New? Was it alienness and novelty of difference from everyday that gave the scenes their charm? Was it something more—a capturing and expression of a rich and greater spirit?
She did not know.
She thought of the art. She thought of the architecture—spirit raised upward to Creation-source—and she wondered if her life if she might ever make something equal to the awes.
Wind stirred, and upon her, she felt its wrap and grace of touch as if sky caress. Sense followed its move and sweep of skin, surface affect that deepened into through; and from spires, church bells, and castle towers, she thought of love.
She thought of love as art: Creation-act inspired in the glory and honor of gifted, offered, expressed spirit in passion and tremble, beauty and awe, affecting and enduring, if not eternal, beyond art and act and moment-time of Creation’s make.
Hollow of disaffection changed into different. She turned from spires and Old World scenes, focusing on inner sense and desire, strongly, to make something of the spirit.