Brussels in May: a bright sun was blazing down on the Southern, Red, Moroccan neighbourhood of Saint Gilles. I was looking forward to summer as I sat outside a café in the Avenue Dejaer. On my green sweater, a black-and-white Dominican cross caught...
I am living in a German metropolis in close neighbourhood to an old people’s home. Since my retirement as a museum teacher, I have had the opportunity to bring the elderly persons living there a little bit more colour into the often monotonous grey...
I was queuing at the supermarket checkout one day with my nephew John and his friend Tommy, both aged 7, when Tommy pointed to my Dominican badge and asked “What’s that?”
(in 19 languages)
Steps leading from searching to the fruit of prayer.With the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary.