An azure altar drifts, robed in ash.
The dark veins that cross it are writings of buried time, cryoglyphs etched by the fury of seasons.
The mountain behind stands as a mute choir; the sky, heavy like an obsidian lid, seals the nave.
The iceberg is not a fragment but a cathedral laid on its side, a fossil creature still carrying the ember of storms.
Its skin, wrinkled by the sea, whispers Hadeïdon’s plain law: all grandeur is transient, all light holds a core of shadow.
Here, water keeps its slow liturgy, and cold anoints the ephemeral. In the fractures, memory flows; in the turbidity of the sky, a vow: as long as this blue endures, someone will remember.
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Reproductions, Impressions sur toile, Impression sur métal