of the time it takes,
to acclimate.
Toulouse is okay.
A little bit grey.
Though I feel stable and clear inside.
The highlight of yesterday:
Visiting the basilica St-Sernin; reading different posters and feelings quite touched by the perspective advertised. The Christ mustn't be seen as an object to find, he was a subject, to emulate. Well I like the interpretation I make of that, anyway.
A woman approaches me. She is holding a clipboard and she shows it to me; ''organization for deaf children, European Union, blah blah blah'': she is asking for money. I try to give a bit sometimes. Right now my initial reaction is to pass. But she is pressing a bit more. ''I'm in a church'' I think to myself, ''what would Jesus do?'' So I take her pen and sign my name, writing the amount of my donation: 1 euro.
I reach into my pocket to grab some change. I give her one euro. But she mumbles something and takes the rest of the coins in my palm. She's asking whether I have a five or ten euro bill that she could change for me. I'm thrown off by her energy; she is not giving me any space to think. A bit confused I take out my wallet. I take special care not to show her the inside, because I actually just went to the ATM and I got a few hundreds in there. I give her a ten. Like a magician - I swear - she takes it with such rapidity, and now she's jingling coins in her pocket but she's talking to me some more. She's asking for another !? She's acting as if I didn't just give her the bill !! ''Okay, this is enough.'' I tell myself now. So I put my foot down (it wasn't up, hehe, but you know what I mean) and tell her firmly: ''Look. I gave you one euro. You took one euro, plus the change in my hand, and a bill of ten.'' She's pretending not to understand what I'm saying. ''Give me my ten back.'' I command, repeating myself firmly and looking through her mask. ''I want my ten euros now.'' I'm not screaming, I'm not attacking, but I'm firm and unwavering.
So she takes it out of her pocket and puts it in my hand. She says, ''tranquille, tranquille.''
She leaves.
I stay there for a second, in shock. I'm in a church.
Then suddenly tears come running down my cheeks...
So I go sit down to cry a bit. What a sad sad world.
And I think of what the Church has caused of injustices, in the name of God, which is supposed to be Love.
I gotta leave this building.
Sitting by the river Garonne I write a few lines:
Des gens se côtoient, ils s'ignorent.
Des gens ont souffert, des gens souffrent,
ils se blessent.
La faim justifie-t-elle les moyens?
I am so powerless in the face of those deeply seated injustices, carved throughout history.
I think she might have been my first encounter with a gypsy.
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