the sponsor of this peculiar church,
on the peak of the french hill of Ronchamp,
this structure would have never seen
a single ray of light.
As light is one of its constitutional materials.
Finding diverse ways to intrude the white oversized walls
& the dark roof in the shape of a ship,
changing colors in the way.
The way to this ‘unorthodox’ chapel
was longer than expected, as my minimal
map indicated, successfully, the route
to the first gas station,
in order to ask for directions.
The name of the chapel will ring a bell to few,
the french candies will have an orange flavour &
my french vowels will sound as italian consonants.
Thrill was high on the list.
Driving up the hill, that Le Corbusier and his boys
would have done half a century before, the road finished &
the beige-dressed nuns started to give way to each other.
Wandering up and down the smooth hills,
with brisk moves & hump backs,
entering and exiting the buildings,
with wide smiles & bonjours,
as performing a daily cinematographic ritual.
