"Harvest machinery was standing for sale by the roadside, but there were no more farmers. A flock of jackdaws was flying south, much higher in fact than jackdaws normally fly. At a basilica, a bucolic one, right nearby, an unknown Merovingian king is buried. Out of the old great woodland came a voice from within.
In Coussey I crossed the Meuse, following the small road to the left, then up to the basilica. I was strangely moved. Such a solemn valley and such a view as would be found in the background of the most solemn Dutch paintings. On both sides are hills, the Meuse wanders through he flat valley, the view east is beyond compare, all in December haze. The trees along the riverside stand in misty rain. This spot touched me, and I summoned forth some courage once again. Directly adjacent to the basilica stood a house I tried to break into, but I quit because it was too securely barred, and I'd have caused such a racket that the neighbour would have heard something. At Domremy I went inside Joan's house; so this is where she comes from, it lies right by the bridge. There is her signature, before which I stand a long time. She signed it Jehanne, but most likely her hand was guided."
-- Werner Herzog, Of Walking In Ice
