Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka (Austin, Texas)
When, in the mid-1990s, I became the Polish press officer for the Chopin Festival in Nohant, I could never have imagined what a long and extraordinary adventure my encounter with Fryderyk Chopin and George Sand would become.
It was a warm summer. The whole region of Berry was in bloom, its meadows spread across rolling hills. From time to time, the view was crossed by a stream and, beside it, a mill surrounded by a tangle of wild grapevines climbing the stone walls, with the mill wheel turning in rhythm with the falling water. A pond or a lake added shades of blue to the green–yellow–red palette of the landscape. Tiny houses with picturesque shutters and tiled roofs, nestled in lush greenery in small hamlets, were a constant feature of the area—just like the numerous, still fairly well-preserved medieval castles scattered throughout the region.
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