It's cold and dreary and it is Friday. As I walk along the road and come to the corner of Sixth Avenue and Twentieth Street, I pass by what looks to be an old church with a black flag flapping in the wind, and I am reminded and overwhelmed by the delicious fear I used to feel whenever I passed inside its beautiful stained glass doors. I stand before the entrance and as I close my eyes for just a second a recollection sweeps of my feet, and for a moment I am there, before the devil's chambers. But those doors are closed right now, possibly ....