Some images have the taste of eternity. It doesn’t matter much. A grain, a light, an atmosphere. There is also what we put into them. What those places tell us, and what they tell about us. Why this one soothes us, why this other one makes us melancholy. 

By definition, pictures are eternal, they capture what has been, just the time for a breath, protect the memory of what will no longer be. But some, more than others evoke this immutability, giving us the reassuring illusion that certain things cannot be spoiled.

It’s like wrapping yourself in a comforter. Chamonix. Home. The slope of these mountains that have seen so many of my joys and sheltered so many of my sorrows. These trees under which I took refuge, under which I smiled, played, sweated, dreamed, run, understood. The heights that I’ve marveled at, that I’ve loved to share with others, and that I’ll share again, as I would a place in my heart. 

Here lives a part of me, always beating, even when I’m not there.

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Listen to accompany the reading…

[ For another stroll in wintery landscapes, discover Winter Souvenir ]