Notre-Dame des Refugiés

There has been an official military march yesterday in Warsaw. And a fascist manifestation protected by hundreds of policemen. I saw it on a little clip pasted in Gazeta Wyborcza's website. It was tragic, the most tragic moment was not to see the bare feet protesters being literally carried away by the police as if they were dead bodies already. The most tragic moment was the irruption of an old woman in lilac dress trying to explain to the young protesters that those people carrying national flags are not, cannot possibly be... fascists. 
How do you recognise a fascist when you see one? That may be not that easy, as it seems. By their closed faces, by their readiness to treat all women by the name of whores, including those that could be their mothers and more, their grandmothers. Europe does not seem to have recognised them yet, and any sanctions against the deconstruction of democracy in Poland are very slow to come. Everything that happens, does happen, as Joseph Conrad might say, right under the western eyes. 
There are nonetheless too many tragedies to deal with, not enough mind capacity to pay attention to the one that we, Poles, are deliberately bringing upon our own heads. I would never imagine, not even in my worse nightmares, that this would be the outcome of our first decade in the European Union. No wonder many people still cannot believe this is true. 
I had tears to cry yesterday. There were running down my cheeks right in the street, and I tried to pretend that I just have a problem in my eyes. Just a tiny ophthalmic issue. It is an atavism to seek refuge in churches, so this is what I did. The cathedral of Saint Gatien here in Tours is the only one I can hope to find open. I wasn't alone inside, the French were coming by entire families, for their cultural walk. By atavism, they still throw 2 euro coins into the box and switch little candles in front of the altar in the lateral chapel. But they don't really pray. The people I saw there in prayer were Syrian Christians, in the primordial "adorant" or "orant" pose (I'm not sure which is the correct term in English), right from the first centuries of Christianity. Those people were not accepted in Poland. Polish Christianity is not of that kind. It is a ruthless Christianity of exorcisms performed over the juvenile victims of pedophiliac priests. Or is it just another Gazeta Wyborcza's lie? 
All I could do was cry, cry, cry, bitter tears running down my cheeks just like this, in public, even if I doubt if anybody might believe in my pretended ophthalmic problem. But now I have to go. I'm travelling to Amsterdam today, just to put my clothes and my books in the storage place. As my contract in France ends, I will seek for a little flat to rent in Leiden. To see how far I can go with my project. Mon barrage contre le Pacifique. Everything I can oppose to the tragedy, one all-encompassing tragedy of our times, when free people come marching in formation, four by four, and resolutely bend their knees to be enslaved.