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Jocelyn Lartigue

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Mist

I would like to share images of a region deserted by mass tourism in winter: chance encounters with a washed-up tree trunk suggesting the tormented souls of fishermen carried away to the beyond, scraps of forest emerging from the mist in the early morning, cranes leaving their flooded “dormitories” at dawn to feed on the leftovers remaining in the corn fields, etc.

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