To understand my roots, we must go back to a time before I was born. My parents were passionate hippies traveling across Asia and Europe. At that time, my father was in a relationship with my mother’s best friend. The latter, who was English, had to return to England to pursue her studies and pass her exams. My father, who is Swiss-German, and my mother, who is English, then decided to continue their journey together. They traveled through Pakistan, Afghanistan, India, and other countries. Back then, it was safer for a blonde woman to travel accompanied by a man. One thing led to another, and a love story was born between them. My mother, who had never experienced a real snowy winter in England, expressed a desire to discover one in Switzerland. That is how my parents found themselves at La Joux du Plane, high up in a mountain, in a farmhouse where they worked as farmhands. The nearest neighbors were more than a kilometer away. Initially, my mother was only supposed to stay for the winter before returning to England, where a job as an anthropologist awaited her. But things didn’t go exactly as planned: I was born. From the moment I was born, I was surrounded by animals: cows, pigs, bulls, cats, dogs, and many more. Very early on, I developed a deep and natural connection with them. They brought me their affection, their benevolence, and their presence. They were my friends. I didn’t necessarily feel the need to have many friends my own age, as my bond with animals was so strong and the farms were so far apart. I could spend hours in the stables or in the fields, surrounded by them. They also brought me the support I needed to cope with my medical condition. Indeed, I was born with an autoimmune disease that required numerous treatments as well as long periods of hospitalization. With them, there was no judgment, only love. They gave me back the strength and energy needed to go through difficult times. My two sisters, younger than me and born without any health problems, never developed this same relationship with animals. We lived on that farm until I was five years old. To me, that place was a true paradise. However, my parents’ relationship was beginning to falter. Hoping to save their couple, we moved to the canton of Fribourg, in Belmont, into an old house large enough to welcome both our family and our animals. At that time, we had cats, dogs, a pony, and, as for me, already a few guinea pigs. Between the ages of five and ten, I often preferred taking care of the animals rather than going to school. Because of the heavy medical treatments I had to follow, my physical appearance was very different from that of other children. I was often the target of mockery and had few friends. To this day, I still prefer being alone than in poor company. When I turned ten, my parents eventually divorced. We had to leave our big house and go wherever my mother could find a job and housing. She obtained custody of the three of us. We were then ten, eight, and five years old. Throughout my adolescence, animals were my refuge, my confidants, and my comfort. I shared with them my fears, my joys, my secrets, and my worries. Their presence soothed me and allowed me to navigate hardships with greater serenity. On a family level, I quickly had to assume certain responsibilities toward my two sisters, as my mother worked long hours to provide for our needs. This period made me gain maturity at a very early age. My illness also continued to rhythm my daily life, with its share of fractures, treatments, and hospitalizations. After obtaining my high school diploma (maturité), I started working for a social insurance company. I threw myself heart and soul into this professional activity. Fortunately, my animals were always there. They allowed me to keep my feet on the ground and fully enjoy the present moment. I worked for twenty-three years in this company until the day reality came knocking at my door with unimaginable violence. By constantly striving to meet external expectations, I had ended up forgetting who I truly was, where I came from, and what made my soul vibrate. I then went through what is known as a "dark night of the soul." Without the presence of my animals and without this sudden, powerful awakening to animal communication, I would no longer be here today. Communicating with them became an absolute evidence for me. I began to better understand their life mission, their behaviors, their emotions, and the messages they sometimes seek to convey to their guardians. They had given me so much throughout my life that it felt natural for me to give back to them what they had offered me. Through animal communication, I now help their guardians better understand who their companions are, what they have come to teach them, and the messages they carry. Over time, other abilities awakened within me and enriched my practice. Today, I am proud to be their messenger, to help them through animal communication and energy healing, and to contribute to strengthening the unique bond that connects humans and animals. This is my soil, my roots, who I am.