One of these churches that seems more like an office in a Town Hall, when you first come in. A kind of vestibule with nothing churchlike about it. Dark, even though it's a bright day outside. Electric lights. Nobody else around. Silent. Sequestered atmosphere. Becalmed. If you travelled back in time eighty or ninety years, you might find this church, and those two men pacing outside the Bank of England, almost exactly the same.

It's not the same really. The Bank of England must be full of computers. Those two men smoking cigars are on the pavement because there's no smoking allowed inside. Odd mixture of change and stasis. Like a stream, the stream behind our house: the same water-patterns always in the same places, fans and braids and swirls, even though everything's in motion.

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