We are the pebbles this church is built from, ground into dust, bonded by blood and baptism. And when all our belief blends together, and we play in a mirage of truth, we make impossible things, both horrific and miraculous, real.
A body of people gather in a gravel lot. Its blue hour, and the abandoned oil refinery in the background just barely shows through the engulfing overgrowth. The lot forms a sort of stage, the oil refinery mimics a cathedral and the people in frame perform a baptism. The woman being baptized hovers over the gravel peacefully holding a cross at her chest, as the glowing liquid pours from a bottle held by her sister. Witnesses record the scene or are distracted on their phones. An older man sitting a distance away peers onto the scene while lighting a cigarette.
California, 2023
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