Ah, the Mont St Michel… the charming creperies, and the authentic omelet; the city of Books, as it is called!
Every day, as if she were eternal, the Mere Poudlard seems to be watching over the passers-by, as she used to with the faithful pilgrims long ago; and, in the streets, the melody of the eggs abundantly beaten under the long whisk can be heard by those who listen carefully.
I travel through time, while crossing the footbridge; and, receptive to its secrets, I’m finally leaving Notre-Dame-Sous-Terre to eagerly discover the marvels of the Logis Tiphaine. The great Benedictine Abbey watches over me, and in that medieval as well as immortal atmosphere, my mind wanders again to the heart of the Sanctuary City.
I’m going home soon, my trip is coming to an end. But one thing is sure, I’m bringing back in my suitcase the appeasement, the crossing of the bay, the samphire and the traditional restaurants, this beautiful scented candle and my memories.