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Something new

Trahamunda Soutullo parked her Seat 128 close to a Seat 124 with a Catalan number plate, very close to the Roman baths. She raised her face to look at the medieval town hanging at the middle of the mountain. It was some years ago when she had visited Saint Bertrand de Comminges and the Cathedral of Notre-Dame for the first time. Five years ago, before starting her studies in Rome she went there with the Mother Superior  of the convent where she was raised, a gift before leaving the nest in Ferreira de Pantón, a reminder of where she came from, an incentive to follow the path she had started watching with devotion the arch of St. Xoán de Panxón.

Trahamunda had to get the shoes off to rise, she did it barefoot on the grass, just on the side of the path that passed beside the ruins of the Roman theatre. She found Jaume Bastida in the hostel in front of the cathedral. She would take a coffee before entering to the temple, and there he was, sitting at a table, alone. His face showed he haf recently awakened from a too long nap. They looked at each other for a few seconds and she sat at another table after asking for a coffee, but on the sight of the young man. When she took her first sip he was looking at her. Jaume greeted her with a movement and she replied with the same.

Salut! Salut! C’est un bel soir. Oui. Tu viens visiter la cathédral? Oui, et toi? Moi aussi. Ça fait combien que tu étais ici? Ça fait cinq ans, tu sais comment que j’y suis déjà étée? C’est evident que tu n’est pas d’ici et tu es toute seule. Tu es seul aussi, ou pas? Oui, mais je pourrais être du pays. No, parles malament francés, sembles català i, a més, em sembla que tens uns Seat 124 aparcat a baix, al cantó de les termes. Que observadora, em dic Francesc Bastida, i tu? Em dic Mireia, Mireia Mainer, anem a la catedral? Som-hi!

Both Trahamunda and Jaume entered the cathedral, in sight of the Epiphany and they kissed in front of the sacred remains of Saint Bertrand. She explained the different stages of the building, the Romanesque phase with two huge pillars that rise in the narthex, the sixty-six chairs carved in the magnificent choir and the most curious votive offering ever seen: a enormous stuffed crocodile, face down, on the surface of a column. And before lying in bed, she showed him another corner of the village: the place where Gunther killed Gundoald.

 

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