The few Bergoglio nuts

Sometimes I go to Mass. I am not religious, despite having studied until I was sixteen with the Sisters of Charity, but I feel the advocation of certain saints, superstitious residue of having grown up in a people of fervent faith towards their patroness. It is the object of my prayers, for example, Saint Francis de Sales, patron of the writers. I lived a year a few meters from his relics, at the feet of the French Alps, and I must admit that ev…