There’s a small chapel in Vence, in the south of France, for the Dominican sisters, called Chapelle du Rosaire de Vence. It was designed by Matisse, a staunch atheist, in honour of the young nurse who had taken great care of him after his cancer surgery.
Last night, as in a dream, I kept thinking about this chapel that I have not seen, and images of Christianity kept coming back to me, as if from a half-forgotten film seen years ago. Then my mind stopped at that one image from Kieslowski’s Blanc : the spinning coin.
The stained windows in the chapel are green, blue, and yellow. I want to see it so much.
But the coin spins and spins. No one can tell where it will stop. No one can tell what will happen. No one knows. Not yet.
At this moment, the only holy word: wait.