The monastery includes the little church and its adjoining cloisters, and a separate entrance to the monk’s quarters and the stairway to their cells. I imagine I am there, not visiting, but living in my cell, looking out my window, wandering in the cloisters, praying in the church. The time in history has no importance, nor does it matter if I am a nun or a monk.
Sorry for just a few pictures. I know they are somewhere in my iPhotos but I can’t find them and I want to post this.