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Inside the Carmel monastery, the peace is disorientating. I’ve come here to meet Sister Edith Maria, and I wait to speak with her in a room dotted with crucifixes and prayer leaflets. I hear a creaking and turn smiling to the door – which doesn’t move. I spin around in time to see wooden shutters unfolding on the far wall, where there’s an iron grille – a physical symbol of the nuns’ separation from the outside world – which Edith Maria pulls back so I can see her in her brown Carmelite garb. Her long dark hair is pulled up under her habit and she wears glasses. I take a seat opposite her.
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