According to the extract from the original land register, this is a wood, class 02, eight hundred and thirty-five square meters, not very dense, traversed by a rough earthen path, past an opening half fallen in onto some slab fragments which the red earth retains in a kind of gangue and which seem to have the same width as the slabs which cover the tombs of the little necropolis of Gant. Moving aside the cover-fragments, one sees, gradually, the outline of an obscure entrance (cave, mine ?) and, if one cautiously puts the head into the orifice, one feels like caught by whirls of icy air coming out of this cavity which seems to go on endlessly underground. Is this prehistoric material, does one have to consider this an ancient human den (there are very many in the region) which should have attracted the curiosity of the Abbé Breuil or of Father Pierre Teilhard de Chardin who, deprived of the natural abysses and the carnal heavens of pulpous Eves threw themselves - supreme incest - into the fertile innards of our nutritious planet in an ultimate quest of this biological garden where the all-powerful Lord conversed with his no less powerful creature, not on the basis of landed proprietor - tenant relationship (“De tres uno”, of three parts one, said Mme Bibula Saint-Ange, whose son had the Prix de Rome for painting, to Julienne, the pretty farmer’s wife of Plas de Sabardu), but well and truly on the level of master-disciple exchanges, while addressing each other by their first names.
In the very first register of Civil Status, one would therefore have to understand Elohim as the god of Nature, who created the world and Yahweh (the ineffable name), as the God of pity who answers to those who appeal to him in desperation. Jesus is supposed to have conversed only with the Second one named, as daringly asserted by the heretical Marcionist sect and there would be, in reality, two “Supreme God”.
Years later, when Moses tried to know the divine name, the Eternal showed him ... his small of the back, a tradition chastely taken up again by the dancers of the Moulin Rouge, two steps from the chapel Sainte-Rita. This brings us back to the clay-feet of Father Omega and to our prehistorico-mining galleries of land parcel 104, given that ever since these original times an incurable hatred rules between Coptos and Tentyre, the city with the shady palm-trees.