It's necessary to pass under the freshness of the large aligned branches that intersect in the forested vault, to watch for the blue mosaics as they draw patterns and pass by in the sky; here and there, your face will be flooded with the generous rays that Brittany knows how to offer when you contemplate it all. We can also hear the crackling of bark, the frightened buzzing of bees, the rustling of squirrels, and the musical thrushes. You still have to smell the scents of the sap, an alchemy of perfumes whose secret is known only to nature. In the Brokus forest, there is a serenity that shocks the idea of noise, people and speed. Time belongs to those who give themselves time; contemplation suspends time; and the Brokus forest seems to be the place designated by God to illustrate such a concept.