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  • In a landscape bereft of people, particularly in the mountains, you can sense infinity. An infinity that grips you by the throat, crushes you down with its presence, makes you feel small and impotent as a human. Yes, you do get the sense of timelessness, but at what price?

    In this vineyard, barely a hundred square metres, just off a busy street in a big town in the South of France, I suddenly felt the connection going back to the Romans. They were the ones who planted vines and enjoyed (almost too much, one might argue) the fruits of their labour in the Rhone Valley. No mighty vineyard this, no famous cepage. Yet I stood there, transfixed, smelling the grapes ripening in the heat. I could imagine myself in a Roman villa, tending the garden, surrounded by the jostle of Roman city life.

    This was timelessness created and perpetuated by humans. I don't know for how much longer we will allow this bit of land to remain a vineyard, rather than a modern block of flats. But for the time being it speaks without words.

    Not quite eternity, perhaps. But enough for me, as a human, to understand and connect.
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