QUOTE : The town had an idyllic quietude, a fishing village that decided that was the best way to stay for a century. The houses were wooden, the exteriors faded to a uniform gray by the salt air. They were not, however, the least bit drab. Bright plants prospered, ivies snaking over the shingles so that the houses seemed less built as grown. The sole exception to this canopy was the church. Set at the foot of a mountain, its door was a staggering red, the stained-glass of the steeple pulsing decadently. When the sun hit it, I could believe the town had fallen under a spell that tithed its color to the church. When Sunday night mass began, this window poured forth a kaleidoscopic radiance rivaling saintly visions.