Dex did not, strictly speaking, believe in God. He didn’t strictly not believe in God either, and when he was feeling particularly self-castigating he told himself his agnosticism was another manifestation of his general cowardice, his disinclination to pick a side, to make up his mind; the proverbial hottest places in hell were reserved for persons such as himself. But then he’d remember what he learned, long ago, at the altar of Our Lady Madonna Louise of Ciccone: the power, the necessity, the elemental beauty of refusing to stop becoming.
