The child was born in the straw

In the heart of the Provençal scrubland, in the silence of a clear winter morning, the stable opens onto the most ancient scene in the world. Mary has placed her hands on her heart. The ox and the donkey have approached silently. Joseph, standing at the entrance, keeps watch. In the center, in the straw of the manger, the Child rests. No stars, no fanfare—just the daylight rising over the Alpilles mountains, and this intimate presence that nothing disturbs.