Self-portrait with narration (Janvier, 2025)
It felt good to hold on to it. The tree trunk was warm despite the cold. Long ago, when there were four seasons, the meteorologists said global warming, but I still wanted winter for only a few holiday days, to make a snowman, to take some pictures of the landscape painted by the hoarfrost. Then I was frozen and going to bed until spring. Now there was an endless winter. Of the sounds left was the crunch of snow under my feet, the bit of my heart and my own breathing. On this day, I decided that I would stay near the warm tree holding it until I disappeared.