Hello Dear Faustine,
I’m sharing these lines because this garden in Palermo made me want to grow a magnificent one in our neighborhood of Lille-Moulins too.
May this light upon light accompany us all the way to Lille and beyond.
Wednesday, October 21, 2026
Just to let you know about the beauty of this city and its people too.
They say “light upon light” when one brightness meets another and the whole shines even brighter.
This week in Palermo, I saw what that looks like.
It was a garden.
Not a garden of identical, neatly lined-up flowers, but a garden of diverse blooms, each with its own color, scent, and rhythm.
Those that climb to the top of Cefalù facing the sea, those that dip their feet in the clear water, those that wander the historic alleys, those that discover the old washhouse so full of history, those that tell delicious anecdotes to make everyone laugh, those that speak, those that listen, those that watch over others.
It’s this delicious mix that makes the garden so beautiful:
the golden cathedrals, the majestic palaces, the shared picnics, and the intoxicating scent of spices.
There was Abderrahim, poet, guide, and human—simple and modest—who lifted the group’s spirits.
When he told us the story of the old washhouse—a place few visit but that holds the memories of the past—we listened, captivated, and understood we were back with true poets: those who don’t need grand words to touch you because their words come from the heart, infused like a handful of verbena and sincere poetry.
There was Lucas, who spoke with knowledge and passion about his subjects, his bees, and with words full of kindness.
In this garden, there was Pascal and his wife Zayneb’s soup, which warmed us and brought us together around the table.
Pascal, right across from our room, and Zayneb, who shared a room with me, are like a key that opens the door to a scent of musk and orange blossom—deep, comforting, and generous—a fragrance you never forget.
Their humanity enters without knocking and leaves behind a warm, homely glow.
There was the elegance and generosity of Hassiba, the true
“princess of photography”: the day I forgot my bag of gold ingots, she paid for my ride to the top of the mountain.
With her, even the path of errands and hikes became an adventure spiced with a pinch of chili and lots of humor: burning feet, blisters, and we kept going, laughing wholeheartedly.
There was also that other, more discreet photographer who greeted us with a soft “good morning,” and both of them captured the light in the locals’ faces and the freshness of our smiles around a corner or a monument.
My tired old phone, just like its owner, let me down:
I’m counting on them to give me back those precious images I couldn’t capture.
And there was that scarf given with such kindness—a simple, delicate gesture worth all the jewels in the world.
Among us were Khadija and her two sons, with infinite kindness and gentleness, bringing so much warmth and light around them.
There was Secil and her little princess Assia, a springtime flower of grace, and another sweet little flower who came with another mom.
There was also Habiba and her daughter Sophie, two wise, refined, and elegant people. With her love for beautiful tables, outfits, and little scented touches, she let us taste a bit of luxury during our stay—us who count every euro—and we laughed about it together.
Here, we were all equals, sitting at the same table, sharing the same bread and the same laughter thanks to funny stories and shared anecdotes that opened our hearts.
And there was our hostel, A Casa di Amici, on Via Dante, which lives up to its name:
right in the city center, just across from the international theater.
Despite the loud noise and bustle of the city, it was an artistic and lively house, perfectly clean, scented with courtesy.
There was a piano, and guitars hanging everywhere on the walls of the reception, as if the artists were all there with us.
Maps were spread out on the tables, colorful paintings adorned the walls, and there was even a cozy corner on the first floor to leave our luggage when we returned the keys. The staff cleaned the rooms every day with care and attentiveness.
And Lucrezia, the true light of this house: with her gentleness, her attentive listening, and her humanity, she made me feel at home, and I hugged her with all my heart.
To Lucrezia, Roberta, Manuelle, and the whole team: I didn’t have mint, ginger, or za’atar in my bag this time, so I’m making you a promise.
Next time, I’ll be the one preparing and serving you hot mint tea, cooked with all my heart.
In this group, we helped each other without hesitation:
to carry a bag, share a snack, or lend a hand—it was already given.
It’s an Italian happiness, made of simplicity, flavors, joyful anecdotes, and human warmth.
And outside too, the locals welcomed us with immense kindness.
On the last day, some friendly people even let us into a private spot by the beach, and everyone said thank you in their own way, as they could: that kind of magical moment that makes you want to meet again.
I also discovered, at the end of my stay, the most popular market where you can find everything for cheap, with its colorful, lively, and fragrant stalls—far from the touristy spots where you pay ten times more. If only I’d known about it sooner!
I really want, when I return to Lille, to bring back some of this brightness, these spices, and this warmth to our neighborhoods.
A huge thank you to Kloe and her husband Salih, who run the association and imagined and carried out this trip with so much heart and dedication: the shared meals, the little scented surprises, the gentle walks at our own pace.
It’s thanks to them that this cultural adventure was such a success.
A garden doesn’t grow on its own: there are always loving hands to water and sow, and theirs are the first.
🌸 Poem: Palermo’s Bouquet
In Palermo’s garden, in Italy’s colors,
Each left a piece of their life.
Kloe and Salih planted the most beautiful seeds,
To offer the journey a serene sweetness.
Abderrahim speaks, and history awakens,
At the old washhouse, with a thousand and one wonders.
Lucas offers his heart and his kind voice,
Pascal right across, and Zayneb sharing,
Cooking up goodness together,
In a scent of musk and brotherhood.
Hassiba with a big heart, the princess of snapshots,
Who captures our laughter and our tired feet,
And that discreet friend with her soft “good morning,”
Knew how to fix the image and the day’s warmth.
And then the anecdotes and joyful tales,
Made sparks fly and all eyes shine!
Khadija and her sons, so kind and gentle,
Brought their hearts and their joy among us.
Habiba, our marquise with an amused smile,
Like Her Majesty the Countess, well surrounded,
With Sophie her daughter, grace and elegance,
Secil and her princess Assia in all innocence,
Without forgetting the sweet little friend,
Who brought joy and made the rain flee.
The shared scarf warms the arms,
Across from the theater, with guitars hanging,
Lucrezia and the hostel sheltered us all.
No matter the loud noise in the heart of the city,
Nothing could darken all this brightness.
Step by step, hand in hand, without ever hesitating,
It’s the light of the soul we’re bringing back to Lille
And everywhere.
An unforgettable stay.
Thank you to all those who have their heart in their hands
And the humanity of this era.
