Looking at culture not as heritage, but as something alive.
I arrived just before closing. The château stood quiet and almost unreal — pale against the sky, framed by soft pink trees just beginning to bloom. It felt like stepping into a scene that had been waiting there for a long time.
The Dordogne valley feels like it belongs to another time. Hills roll like sleeping giants, rivers run slow and dark beneath old stone bridges, and cliffs seem hollowed out with secrets.
I started noticing them everywhere. Shopping trolleys — pulled behind people of all ages, moving through streets, markets, train stations. Some modern, some old-fashioned, some elegant, some purely practical. After a while, it felt like everyone had one.
I stood beneath the whale, looking up like everyone else.And then I stopped moving. Not searching, not scanning — just standing still. That’s when I noticed it.
