The bookstore is a sacred space. Both the big corporate ones and the little local shops. Browsing without an agenda opens you up to all kinds of finds from the troubling to the tantalizing. The employees with excellent recommendations provide a public service.

The interior of a vehicle on a long drive on an open road is a sacred space. The set of ways to pass the time feels simultaneously vast and limited. It's a sort of forced meditative experience. That first stretch after stepping outside at your destination is divine.

The gym is a sacred space. Few spaces have a stronger sense of purpose shared among strangers. The raw exertion stands out in a world focused on comfort. It's an endless path with little room to deceive yourself.

The amusement park is a sacred space. Countless hours were poured into designing the towering cathedrals that optimally mimic danger. The tension in the moments when belts are buckled and restraints are set is exquisite. And there's funnel cake.