The world of the novel “Spirits of the Earth” is not fictional; Catherine Colom described what she saw. She probably had special vision, compound eyes with tens of thousands of lenses, capturing what is inaccessible to the ordinary human eye: the secret, the otherworldly. Kolom casually talks about a dead man flying along the corridors on his transparent business, about young dead women going down the stairs for the last glass of water, about a thirteen-year-old boy with a broken chest accompanying coffins to the churchyard. Clumsy virgins trip over unicorns on garden paths that are impossible to miss. In the evenings, strange space fish swim outside the triple-glazed windows. In the rooms you can hear the melancholy murmur of water, under rep tablecloths the tree nymphs are suffocating and crying. Angels look out from behind blue shutters at a small Swiss village, circle over the cherry blossoms, speak two languages and grab beautiful girls by the golden locks. From Fredeg's tower you can easily see the pillar of air connecting every living creature with its heavenly counterpart, but the villagers are blind, arrogant and busy with family squabbles.