Today I had one of those surreal, startling moments that stick with you for a week after they occur. I was in the back of my parents' van riding past Hotel Circle, looking out the window when I spotted a bizarre church with oblong, sixties-esque architecture that looked like a strange spaceship emerging from the hillside. Suddenly a mural of a man hacking at dead meat with a six-inch blade while giving the passing cars a tight, sadistic grin swirled into view. My dad's jerky driving jarred me around and when I looked out the window again my vision fell directly onto a marquee with the words "Open hearts" on it. I immediately correlated the phrase with the eerie butcher, bringing to mind images of a cold, lifeless heart sitting on his bloody table. The marquee was for the church.

The whole event happened in seconds and left me jarred and disoriented. My breathing returned to normal but my mind was more reluctant to stop running.