The path to the Black residence in France lay through expanses of hills, humping and bending in huge green waves under the weight of a cloudless sky of solid blue color. When the family finally arrived at one of the chateaux of the Loire, located in the river basin, through parks lined with smooth rows of perennial trees and lush flower bushes, it allowed the tension that had reigned all winter to dissipate like smoke in the face of overflowing crystal clear open spaces.

The lush, shiny ivy, flowing along the walls of the majestic chateau house with its snake-like flexible body, has not changed at all, but the house itself has fallen into disrepair, there was no such thing when grandmother Irma and grandfather Pollux were there. However, nothing serious, just black paint peeled off on the iron gates in some places, under it rust spots appeared, the fan window on the spacious balcony of the frames was covered with cobwebs, and the bushes of roses and rhododendrons could do with a trimming.