Furiani, 8 October 2026

Bastia airport. I am waiting for my flight, and I am writing these lines because I cannot keep them to myself. I am filled with immense gratitude. Not only for last night, but for being in this position: being there, for this.

Furiani, last night.

Thank you to those who came. An audience in Corsica is like no other: people come in with reserve, and stay with an attentiveness rarely found elsewhere.

I keep several moments from that evening.

A lady stood up in front of the whole room. It takes courage to stand up, in front of strangers, and say what you carry. The room understood her before I did. The applause came on its own, without anyone asking for it. That warmth is not politeness; it is a collective intelligence. An entire room recognising, in a second, what it took for one person to stand there.

Some had come with an intense sadness, the kind you carry for years without ever setting it down anywhere. I saw them leave differently. Lighter. I cannot explain it, and I do not try to.

Another lady, who has a serious injury to her foot, came to see me after the session. She showed me her toes: during the evening, she had been able to move them, for the first time in a very long time. Miracles exist. I know it. We are not allowed to talk about them, but they ask no one's permission. It is not I who decides. I ask, and sometimes something comes.

We ended with a ritual that I lead for contact with the departed. Each person, guided, in silence, turned towards their own. There were tears. Not of sadness; tears of presence. From now on, I will do this ritual at the end of every Public Session. It is what was missing.

I believe Public Sessions are necessary in our harsh society, at this time. We will get through this. But always through the collective, never alone. I am coming, and I am waiting for you.

-Mischa Harmeijer