When I rediscovered the traditional mass, that of my childhood, my memory propelled me into happy days, my parents, my grandparents, the meadows, the fields, the village, the processions, the scents that have now disappeared , the "Sunday clothes", the Gregorian chants that spoke to the soul, a whole heritage, a memory from the depths of the ages that we are trying to eradicate today with woke culture... I relive each times those times when happiness was simple.
When I push open the door of this old church on Sunday, the smell of incense transports me to another world.
