Day 16: Hands of Faith

Today I visited the Basilica of Our Lady of the Angels, a place where devotion and history are woven into the very stones. The basilica stands with quiet grandeur, its pale facade glowing against the bright sky and its ornate domes reaching upward.

Inside, the soft murmur of prayer mingled with the warm afternoon light filtering through the stained glass windows. I lingered for a while, studying the intricate details of the altar and the delicate arches. There is a timelessness to the place, a serenity that feels carved into its foundations. I sketched the arches, focusing on the delicate carvings that frame each window.

Worshippers came and went, lighting candles and bowing their heads in reverence. I felt like I was witnessing a thread of continuity that stretched across generations, each person bringing their own story and hopes. The basilica holds these moments within its walls, a silent keeper of countless lives and prayers.

As I left, I felt a quiet sense of peace, as if the day itself had been a gentle blessing.