The sky sounds the alarm.
Beneath the storm, a monolith of frozen seaweed stands tall.
Iron veins, rust-colored wounds: the ancient blood of the Earth comes to the surface.
The sea bows its head, recognizes the totem, and retreats.
Here, ice speaks stone and stone speaks water.
Hadeïdon carves an oblique rite into this striated flank:
oath of salt, memory of the abyss, patience of the cold.
Time, liquid granite, falls asleep there with its eyes open.
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Reproductions, Impressions sur toile, Impression sur métal