An Afternoon with Nostradamus and his Prophecy in Salon-de-Provence - Summer 1564

The heat of Provence hung like a promise over the streets of Salon as I walked up Rue Hozier. It was one of those afternoons when the air itself seems to stand still, as if holding its breath—as if it knew what was to come. The shutters of the houses were closed. Only the cicadas sang, tirelessly, their single song.