The monks look so different outside of chapel. In services Brother P. is majestic, with a deep, strong, mighty voice inside a beat up and lame body. The lines of his body are sharp and defined. He looks and sounds regal. When he's in the role of priest at services, he's so intentional: hands lifted, bread up, never a smile, chants faster and with more purpose than the other monks.
I bump into him outside the kitchen and didn't recognize him. He has little glasses that I didn't see before. I’m taller than him. He speaks really low and mutters, and I can’t understand him at all. He has a sad, needy sort of smile all the time that's asking for to me to smile back. In the chapel, he is Christ to us. At the kitchen, he’s the cook. He's wringing his hands, twitchy, can’t meet my eye. He's very pleasant, soft-spoken, looks a little lost and like he’s trying to remember something that he’s forgotten.
Roles.
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