Out of season

To distance, to step back, take off, go away, leave, etc. So many words to translate a departure. As if, the head swindles in search of one somewhere else, it was impossible to realize at the present moment the importance of certain things. It is only recently, after several years away from the sea, I've realized how much I missed it. Its coastline, smell, view, its paradoxes. The Mediterranean Sea, that I so often followed, mainly from Sète to Marseille, by taking for granted that I had it at hand, seem now irreplaceable. I photographed it to each of our reunion, aware of its nature and its vernacular architecture. I visited it on the occasion of joyful events, I returned to it for more painful moments, it sometimes calmed.
Avoiding the summer bustle, persuaded it belongs to us a little more before the arrival of the tourists who monopolize it during several months, I took advantage of the "dead" season, to appreciate again its silence and its beauty, observe its wintry light which cuts the shadows of the passers-by, to find zones limestones which line it.
This photographic essay is a reflection on my identity, my origins, and the transformations of this coast which I witness in each of my visits.