Grey day: On top of the vineyards of Verzy, amidst a small group of wild roses, a crucifix from past days. I love the clarity of the illuminated French minds, but I am bred with obscure Scandinavian superstitions and the Protestant Christian beliefs too, and I pay my regular visits to the Christ of the vines. Not for prayers, this is more of a at times windy sanctuary for the searching mind.
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