The Music Room that welcomes us is entirely panelled in wood. Wood on the floor and wood on the walls. Ideal for recordings and for acoustically isolating what goes on inside. I think of today’s testimony and the school garage where we’ll be performing tomorrow. Images come to mind of an Argentine film about other garages, of students isolated in torture chambers and their bodies thrown from the sky. Today we’re performing at the Cultural Centre, in the heart of a small town from which wonderful Alpine trails set off. In the national press, alongside reports of bombings, a heated controversy is raging over an exchange of flags and keys involving this very town. A former mayor wanted to force the new mayor to wear the tricolour sash, whilst she resolutely asked him to hold the key to the town. How much more beautiful would a town be without keys and without flags? After the performance, we step outside. It is getting dark and a cold wind is picking up. Above us are the peaks, beautiful, and alongside us are those who have long been working to ensure that new forms of expression are born and flourish here too.