What moved me most in Lalibela was the way the people approached, met and interacted with the stone. They often kneeled before it, touched it softly and kissed it. You could sense they felt that God was in the stone itself. Some were overtaken by emotion. I do not know if it was grief, joy, or something else entirely. I saw that reverence play out again and again. The rituals and mass were done with honor, but the simple prayers by the pilgrims throughout the day seemed more personal, and entirely without self-consciousness.

These prints are platinum, a nod to how long the place and its customs have endured.