He was a tall, gentle man.
A man whose silhouette had stooped over time and who nevertheless inspired an extraordinary feeling of elevation and fullness.
A man of light and poetry, of faith and generosity.
He died on Monday at the age of 89 in Paris.
With his white hair thrown back, showing the high forehead, the tender and deep gaze, with this beard, sometimes quite long, he could have come straight from ancient Russia.
Hermit, pope, saint, preacher… Yet Michael Lonsdale was not of Slavic origin!
His first name was pronounced in English.
His father, an officer, was English, his maternal grandmother, Irish.
Its nature reserve, its elegance, its spirit, were perhaps a legacy of this lineage.
But what struck in him, the more time advanced, it was the benevolence which emanated from all his being.
He could be very intimidating.
He impressed, but he was approachable.
He never judged the other.
We felt it
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