Last night, reading your supportive and affectionate comments on the petition and the fight against the powerful, I understood something. Deep down you all are my true brothers and sisters. We are companions chosen to go on this earthly journey of life together. I dream that one day – if we win – we can all gather for a heartfelt embrace, here on the wide field in front of the hermitage.  

My farmhouse hermitage was built centuries ago with the river stones that surrounded the farmers who lived here. It’s on a rock spur; surrounded by forests, sitting on a hill they now want to destroy. It’s a very spiritual place, made of silence and light.

I discovered it one day, following curiously a white road that seemed a dead end. I went up a long path, turned left, and after a short but steep climb, made dark and narrow by long rows of black locusts, I saw suddenly a wide, flat, illuminated field watching silently the entire valley below… I didn’t see the house at first. Advancing I came to the center of the field… a strange crown of umbrella-shaped pine trees ran along the right side… Ever curious, I came closer and the house appeared to me: not high, but essential, dry, naturally elegant and humble, made of pebbles more than stones; the house was waiting for me. Maybe for a long time. Fate would have it was that day. With my head still bandaged, recovering from a difficult surgery. My skull drilled into. I was young, just a little over 30… brain tumor (to be continued)…