(warning: deep title today) When Death reveals Life

Last weekend, we heard about the death of our direct neighbour (in Bretagne). An old lady who was between 80 and 90. Her husband has had a heart attack and is in hospital right now.
Poor man :(

A couple of months ago it was our young mason, now our neighbour.
We hardly see anybody when we go there, because we spend our time working in the house. Yet, we *know* when something has happened. We always come across someone here and there who will tell us if anything happened in the hamlet and village. I start to appreciate that communication, with its weaknesses (gossips?) included. Eeeeck ;-)

And when I compare this with my life in Paris, that is so different. It's been a year I wonder if my neighbours below have been momified or not. I just don't hear them anymore, and stooopidely I won't knock at their door to ask. I do not care that much either...
But it is sad that people here live so close to each other and yet remain total strangers.

For years I was convinced this "city" kind of relationship suited me. I live on my planet, you live on your planet, and that's perfect to me.

But now when I look at people's loneliness in Paris, I'm changing my mind. Old people become ghosts, people just don't look at them anymore.
In the countryside, at least around where we are, there is always someone who will come to check if all is fine, there will always be a village's celebration where everybody will gather sometimes.

I hope we'll find a good balance once we live there.
I don't want old blue-haired ladies comment each time I'll pee in my pants because of a good joke!
I don't want to see the curtains shivering each time I walk in front of this or that house.
I don't want to spend my time talking of the weather with the people there... though I know it's part of the *game* ;-)

We'll see, I'm ready to make lil efforts to integrate meself... not bad for a Parisian, hey?!! (proud smile)