He (or the Virgin Mary) has appeared on burnt toast, sheets of linen, creases of a drying sock, a landslide, dried wood, a fried egg, and just about everything else you can think of.
Today, while looking for material for my On Women project, I discovered His image on a wall half-hidden among the residues of lost generations of pasted up and ripped down, political, vote-for-me, posters.
It’s amazing what you can find in plain view when you take the time to observe closely.
What does it all mean, Buckwheat?