L'Écume d'Or

The sky has grown clear, almost faded. As if the day were holding its breath.

At the centre, the sea. Deep blue, dense, suspended. It does not move, or so little. It still carries the memory of the open water.

And then the shore. A foam that is no longer really a foam. It surfaces, it shimmers, it becomes gold. The light has settled there, on that fringe where the sea meets the land. It has left its trace, like a signature.

It is the moment when the Mediterranean offers what it holds most precious to its edges. The shore becomes precious, almost sacred. A golden frontier between the world of the waters and that of men.

Matter, structural plaster, acrylic, gold leaf. Wabi-sabi. To paint the foam. To sculpt the offering.