Going home is all about dealing with childhood traumas, revisiting them, allowing them to run amok so that perhaps you can begin to understand them.
One I was little my family took me to this cathedral to see the incurrupt body of an old catholic saint. It freaked me out so much and remember not being able to understand why anybody would take their small kid to see such a creepy scene, I still don’t understand. It was an image that haunted me for years and I still carry it deep inside, somewhere in the darkness of my soul and my visual memory.
This past Christmas I went home. I decided to revisit that traumatic image. It was surprisingly similar to what I remeberd. I took a photo of it cause I’m morbid (I’m sure this childhood incident has something to do with this characteristic).
En fin, childhood crap, creepy saints and a great Christmas holiday back home. More photos to come although I just took one of the saint.