Beauty Is in the Eye of Somebody
The perfect fit neither disguises a person nor flaunts her. It arrays the best of her, whoever she is, in the most becoming way.
The church I attend was born 140 years ago, a classic little white clapboard. The first time I saw her, I sighed at the thought of calling her home. The front is a blocky triangle, due to the addition of bathrooms on either side of the original facade (post-Victorian weaklings decided they were needed, and there was nowhere else to put them). The steeple is another block. It once soared appropriately heavenward, but it resigned itself to a heavy upward lunge after a lightning strike took out the taper. The overall effect of the exterior is a squared-off walrus.