Traffic diverted us round Ludgate Hill, and I watched as St. Paul’s great dome slid past the window.
I thought of it for a moment. A cathedral dedicated to a man who must have had one of the most radical transformations in history – going from someone who persecuted Jesus’s disciples in Jerusalem, to a man struck blind and given back his sight, ever afterwards to proclaim that Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God. It was an idea too large to wrap my head around. I couldn’t imagine such a transformation. I couldn’t imagine going from something so low to something so high – and it made me dizzy.
But the church was gone as quickly as it came, and it was never very close, so I quickly forgot about it.