The street crackles with the fire that consumes it. It is a powerful breath. And little by little the night is made. The cold comes after the blaze. All is nothing but memory.
Because of the mechanical nature of its technical function, photography is for me a matter of time rather than a visual matter : in its silver salts, or its pixels today, it is time which is captured, preserved, reinvented at every glance. Time of life, time of vision, time of poetry.