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H A L O The saints of the Middle Ages had to sit down every so often to rest. Their halos were such a heavy load. You can see it in the paintings. How sometimes they slump as they walk. Back at the monastery the disciples lifted the golden disk from their master’s shoulders and leaned it against the wall. At night mice would nibble at its edges and in the morning they would scatter, all aglow. Then the strongest monk would place it behind his master’s head again and help him down the stairs. It was an age unlike ours. You might meet a demon in the dark. Or find a flock of angels gathering by a well. But it was clear at a glance who was holy and who was just talk. 41 ...

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