Help to the long, long fall nights, temperature drops lower and lower, allowing the air that colds by contact to the ground to reach the dewpoint. That's the moment where the birth of fog take place : water vapor condenses into billions of tinny dropplets, floating in the quiet darkness of the countryside.

I watch these precious mornings where sleepy Gascony wakes up under a delicate fog cover, at the end of chilly cristal-clear nights. I love to explore, in the very first hours of the day, this beloved landscape where everything is so sudenly modified. The irruption of fog into the valleys turns every hill into an island. Well-known trees take a mysterious shape, and a little wood can take a tropical-rainforest look. Small roads seem to drive toward unmaned era. In this different world that gets new each morning, the lucky photographer can catch a magical light, evolving minute after minute as the sun rise ...

(English text writen on April 13th, 2003)