Between the black of an absence and the white that intuits a radical exteriority to the daily life but refuses to nominate it, the symbols and gestures of our diversity are extended. In another sequence, in the sites of meditation and cult, the width of life very etymologically cultivates itself. A rectangle, a conviction, a space, a symbol that condensates it, a gesture that shapes it.
Amid the open disbelief about the black and white of the belief in an unrepresented divine entity (the god of philosophers, as it used to be written a century ago), the sequence unrolls as if it was a pathway. For each confession, one belonging. For each belonging, one stone in the multicolour walkway that Europe’s made of. For each individual, one universal step. In each religion, or in its absence, a face of our humanity.
To be European is to live and make that freedom. No sight of the world overruns all others. Atheists, Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims, Agnostics, all multiple identities intertwined in the European memory. In valuing differences, in sheltering a bit of us in ourselves, in cultivating tolerance and dialogue, in building a more filled and colourful culture on top of what’s separating us, Europe makes its own path. Or rather, in these difficult times, its dream.