Very near my home, in a suburb of a big city, yet the chapel remains a place of worship and is tended - in its way - by ikons, homemade crosses, prayer cards, varied stautuary...
Extraordinarily, some of these small and mobile and unwatched tokens have been there for many years.
Have they been thus far protected by some magic about the place and reverence residual in most people?
Yes - thus far, they have.
From a poem by William Blake: