Soru

Passage:

For two months, I have lived in the scaffolding beneath the south transept window of St. Jude’s, suspended thirty feet above a drafty nave. My tools are simple: a stiff-bristled brush, a vulcanized rubber bulb to blow away centuries of coal soot, and a small lead knife that has been ground down to a curved sliver from years of sharpening. The parish council, in their monthly bulletins, describes my work as "restoring the light of our ancestors." But up here, face-to-face with the cobalt blues and brilliant rubies of the thirteenth-century glass, I know that "restoring" is too grand a word. My task is not to improve or even to recreate, but to arrest decay.

Every day, I examine the cames—the H-shaped lead strips that hold the glass segments together. The lead has grown fatigued over the centuries, bowing outward under the pressure of winter gales until the window looks less like a flat wall and more like a heavy sail catching the wind. When I touch the glass, it rattles in its seat, a fragile, chattering thing that seems desperate to succumb to gravity.

The council wants the window to shine as if it were brand new, but that would require replacing the original hand-blown glass, which is full of imperfections—trapped air bubbles, variations in thickness, and ripples that distort the light. It is precisely these flaws that give the cathedral its unique, breathing glow. To replace them with modern, uniform glass would be a betrayal. I choose instead to reinforce the lead and clean the surface, preserving the dust-mottled prisms that the original, nameless glazier left behind. I am not an artist here; I am merely a silent guardian of another person’s light, ensuring that their work remains visible for another century, even if it remains slightly obscured.

Based on the passage, which of the following best describes the narrator's perspective on their role in the St. Jude's restoration project?