After darkness, I hope for light

Climb the hollowed stairs, push open the worn wooden door; your hand rests where hundreds of thousands of hands have rested before. The dim interior hides details, timeless beauty not dictated by taste, fashion, or the latest greatest artist plying his trade. Listen. Be still, quiet, wait. The hopes, dreams, fears of the many - thought, whispered, murmured, chanted, sung. The stone is grimy with the weight of need, cobwebs catching the dust of faith that drifts through the high reaches of the space. Pews polished by hands, knees and thighs, the dark wood stained by joy, hope and despair; the smell of candle wax, incense, and age on the air. A selection of ten images from a 43 image series captured in April - May 2019, across various locations in Italy.