José Balmes, painter, remembers : “The whole bay was illuminated; no one moved before dawn. It was the 4th of September, yet the sun gave it an air of spring. On shore, hands and faces were demonstrating their friendship and bidding us welcome.

It took us a while to recall the meaning of a hug. (…) The train swiftly took us to Santiago and, whenever we slowed down to pass through the stations, strangers would give us roses and carnations. In the evening, thousands of men and women were waiting at the Estación Mapocho to welcome us with songs and banners. Later, this land would become mine too, for the rest of my life.”