Come in, shouted the voice, but close the door behind you, keep the heat in.
I did enter, and I did smell the soup, which the two workmen, sat at a cloth-covered card-table by the altar, were pouring into bowls, from their flasks.
I thought to take a photograph, but chose against that, largely for privacy's sake.
I thought to talk to them, but decided not to, for they were already in full flow.
Instead I determined, to try and remember what a good moment this was, which I had been so so fortunate to witness.
