Britanny


There are the apparently boundless ocean and the fearsome wrath of the sea, that destroy things even when calm, as the wave, repeated again and again, wears the cliffs away, there is the engulfing ocean.

There is the force of the wind that continuously blows, swelling and becoming an amazingly violent storm, where gusts and rain reveal the figures and stir the shape of things.

There is the force of the cold wet night, filling the wild moors and shores with creatures.

And when the mist comes, when the other forces vanish under the cover of silence, then you can meet what cannot be seen, what is beyond shapes.

When you watch the red sun sink and founder in the Atlantic Ocean, in an absolutely clear sky, you cannot but be deeply struck by the mystery and the splendour of the world.

		Translated excerpts from
		Bretagne Terre sacrée
		Gwenc'hlan Le Scouëzec