Everytime I see those oversized posters and mean faces next to them shouting bible quotes and hatred, I close one eye and put a finger over the entire front of the rugged brick building. Poof. The ugly is gone. I never understood how someone shouting religious views at me was suppose to make me agree that my body was their temple. What if I had a different temple than theirs? I am my own church, a growing tree of weeds and thorns as pinks and purples turn from tiny specks to large galaxies. I am my own universe.
