We are now a century in the past. The pulleys, belts, gears and grind move following the rhythm of the Vizézy water. The oil starts pouring and the warm perfume of roasted canola invade the mill.

The miller before you makes the same movements as his ancestors and soon the roasted canola oil or walnut oil pours into the bucket.

The Vizézy water runs singing at the foot of the Massons oil mill, only survivor of about sixty other mills that used to border the Vizézy river from the middle age.