42.
    Then a surprised look crossed Raymond’s face. “Wait a minute! I know someone who has had personal experience with terrorism and its consequences. Let’s give her a call.” He stomped into the ruins leaving the dogs and me to scurry along behind. He led us past crumbling temples, shattered arenas, smashed fortifications to a giant pair of somber stone Pharaohs who seemed to have dozed off where they stood. Each held an arm high above its head to together support a great golden horn, its massive bell flared upward to the sky, its enormous tube coiled like the guts of God.

   We scaled a stone stairway to watch Raymond lumber up to the trumpet. He paused and turned to us. “Prepare yourself, children for the sound of ecstasy.” He put his lips to it and gave it a blast. The music of the spheres shook us to our bones. It was a gorgeous, haunting sound that filled us with the power and beauty of the universe. The sound frightened us. It inspired us. It dazed us. When Raymond stopped, it lingered for a while, caressing us for a moment more before trailing away.
   “Oh my God, I feel I’ve been made love to!”, I said reverently. “Play that thing again!”
   “Yes, play it again!”, cried the dogs. “Play it again!”