The Man Who Planted Trees (1987) HQ- English


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THE MAN WHO PLANTED TREES Many years ago I set out on a walking tour... high in the Alps, a region quite unknown to travellers where ancient mountains thrust down into Provence. The trek began on barren moors, twelve or thirteen hundred metres above sea level, through land that was bleak and monotonous. Nothing grew there but wild lavender. My route led across the region at its widest point... and, after hiking for three days, I found myself in a wasteland desolate beyond description. I made camp near the remains of an abandoned village. The day before my water supply had run out, and I had to find some. The cluster of houses, although they were in ruin, reminding me of an old wasps' nest, made me think that once there must have been a fountain or perhaps a well. There was indeed a fountain, but it was dry. The roofless houses, eaten away by wind and rain, and the chapel with its crumbling belfry, stood arranged like houses and churches in a living village, but here life had vanished. It was a sunny cloudless June day, but over these bare highlands blew a fierce insufferable wind.