In Brittany, on this marine, urban, peasant territory, it is whispered that…
The travelers don’t count as butter
The Coast is proving to be more wild than the residents
.
We get waves of emotion, even in the midst of storms
.
We etch every moment in our memory, not on the stones
We pick up our trash because it’s not the sea to drink
We’re returning the land of the fields, not the fine sand of the foreshore
We eat local as naturally as we swallow a pancake
We gladly put down the bowl to dance at the fest-noz
We contemplate the ballets of egrets on tiptoes
Freedom is regained without escaping the hiking trails
guides delight visitors, and this is not a legend
The meeting with Brittany is shared with pride.