Enter the one-eyed bishop, bobbing gently through the zippered doorway, to inquire after the soft scent of the holy sacrament. Dei Genetrix, intercede pro nobis. Passing upon the tongue of rolled carpet red to shaft of light upon crossed altar, the upstanding faithful, fervently basking under the benevolent embrace of the Virgin Mary’s gaze, utters hotly a hoarse ejaculate of praise. Ave Maria! The bishop bows at the sanctum, a joyful teardrop clinging glutinously to his single eye.