Argoat is the inside country. It is the fragrance of its ground, its wet undergrowth, its enchanted Moors. These are the rocky heights of the Monts d'Arrée with their severe beauty. People live here with land and wood. The wind in the foliage, animals mooing in a field are the daily noises.
Armor is the seaside country. It is the fragrance of iodine, the smell of wrack being washed up on the shores. It is the Ocean, its treasures and dangers. People live here with sea and fishing. The sale by auction, the backwash of the sea against rocks are the daily noises.
Armor and Argoat are clearly opposed , would you say. No, nothing is more tenuous and indefinable than the border which separates them. In Pen ar Bed, land is cultivated until the limits of the sea shore and the sea comes in abers and rias reaching the inside lands. Nevertheless each inhabitant knows to which he belongs......
The Celts have always felt the primordial links expressed by Nature and which are as many paths between land and sky, travelled up and down by gods messengers, souls and glances of living. As a spreading wave, Armor offers horizontal links, as a raising tree Argoat offers vertical links. May be it is here the ultimate meaning of Armor and Argoat, a network of gateways between worlds of gods and men.
When the smell is dung, it is Argoat, when there is a smell of fish, it is Armor. When it stinks the metro, it is Châtelet in Paris !