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Sometimes, when I sit in my lonely trailer on the hill, winter storms break out. The rain comes beating down on the roof, the wind shakes the flimsy foundations of the old wooden building, I can’t see a single light or sign of human habitation. I’m truly in the wilderness, with nowhere to run or hide. And what can be so merciless and unsettling for me on a three-day stay is a lifelong vocation for a monk or nun. For all their hope and confidence, they live very often alone in their cells, surrounded by fears and doubts and frustrations.- PI
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