Through the west door we come, through the west door we go. We don't look at it and think "hey, that's a really nice wall".
But it is a nice wall. It hasn't been there long, it's stones are still all shiny and too clean to really be worthy of the pomp and circumstance of Cathedrals. But in time, it will hold the memories of millions of faces, voices, thoughts and words. It will remember in silence as only stone can and look down with its cold and sullen strength at the east end, the place where all the eyes turn, and it will think "you know, before I was here, this acoustic sucked".
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