My life is discovering

The cold November rain stabs my neck and stings my face. With large steps, I cross the Pantheon square to hide under the roof of the massive dome. A heavy door lets me in. Here, it’s quiet and damp; I smell the musty odour of an old building but am happy to find my safe haven after the torrential downpour. The marble floor with its monochrome kaleidoscope echoes with each of my steps. The season is over – scarce tourists whisper in front of ‘Vers la glorie’ fresco guided by information contained in their travel brochure; a family takes pictures of sculptures and tapestries and rushes downstairs to see the tombs of great Parisians; Dumas, Voltaire, Rousseau, Hugo, Zola – the list of people, honoured by their burial here, is impressive.
The Pantheon of Paris is mainly visited for its crypts within the mausoleum. Guides will tell you about the number of columns; Greek cross design, neoclassicism architecture and the panoramic city views from the roof. Little attention is paid to a pendulum which slowly swings in the very middle of the cathedral – nowadays proof of the earth’s rotation doesn’t seem to be so exciting.
But not for me! I freeze in front of the circle delineating the swings of the unique pendulum of Foucault. The metal sphere almost touches the floor, falling from the highest cupola of the dome. Its motions are slow, full of dignity, as if Leon Foucault has just burned through a thread allowing it to show the whole world the plain fact that the Earth rotates. Discovery of this great scientist fascinates me. It’s simple, as everything genius. If you are patient enough to stand facing it for ten minutes, you can see a miracle! Together you move with the planet while this brass-coated lead bob continues to swing on its long wire back and forth. It moves steadily, regardless of circumstances around it, the same way it did more than a century ago. Nobody pays it any attention, nobody notice this sensation, nobody… but I do.