Divine Tragedy

I saw...

I saw Paris. Paris emptied of its inhabitants. The deserted streets as a backdrop for the theatre after the show. When everyone is gone, when there is no one left. I also saw homeless people abandoned in the middle of this nothing. Not confined, they.

I smelt...

I could smell the city, but not the usual odour. This time, there was no smell of exhaust pipes, smell of kebabs, smell of urine...

I heard...

I heard the birds sing. Those we don't usually hear. Those of the Place de l'Etoile, the Place de la Concorde. I also heard the dead leaves rolling on the asphalt and the steps of stray joggers.

I touched...

I touched... No, I did not touch. We don't have the right. Or yes, I touched: the shutter release of my camera. I feel the need to testify, to tell. It’s my job after all.

I tasted...

I tasted the scary and exhilarating feeling of being alone in the middle of this void. I tried to echo this heavy and dark atmosphere in my pictures. A rough grain as if to symbolise this damn virus that has violated our space.