Blue, green, yellow. Their reflections glisten on the smooth stone that paves the streets. I am due to give evidence in the triangular hall of this village’s castle. A place I had long imagined as a child before I actually got there. I used to read stories of its resistance to siege by foreigners from the east in a book where everyone died, and which seemed to me to have been invented by a restless young girl. I discovered much later that it had been written by an eminent philologist. The first Western Gothic novel was also set in this castle. It is dark, in fact. Very dark. As soon as we enter the hall, the bright light that pervades the village fades away. I give my testimony amidst flashes of yellow, purple, blue and green that illuminate the twilight. I take great pleasure in the quality of the discussion amongst the scholars who have come here to ‘redefine sustainability’, as the name of the meeting suggests. They sought to weave bio-imaginism into their studies; we were both surprised and delighted by this. We then step outside, at last, from all this stone and plunge into the sea, orange in the sunset. At this time yesterday, we were in an imposing grey museum built within the largest concentration camp in Central Europe, in the rain. Now we are bathed in the warm light of the setting sun. The sieges continue, and the largest concentration camp in the modern world is a strip of land that could be reached by sea from here. There are those who are trying to reach it. Under sail. Right now.