Behind the Image – A Moment Between the Tides
It was early morning on the Côte d’Opale. The tide had receded, revealing a landscape that felt both timeless and fleeting. As I walked along the shoreline, I stopped in my tracks. There they were—rows of weathered mussel poles, rising from the wet sand like a forgotten language written by the sea.
The light was soft, the sea calm. A fine layer of water still lingered across the flats, just enough to catch the sky. The mussel poles stood tall, and beneath them, their own reflections echoed back in gentle ripples, like memories repeating in still water.
There was no dramatic light show, no crashing waves. Just stillness. A kind of quiet reverence that made me lower my voice, even though I was alone. The poles stood like silent guardians, shaped by years of salt and tide, witnesses to sunrises, storms, and seasons.
I felt something shift in me. This wasn’t just a beautiful coastal scene—it was a story. Of patience, of rhythm, of living in harmony with nature. I imagined the generations who had worked these waters, placing each pole with care, trusting the sea to do the rest. It was both human and wild. Fragile, yet deeply rooted.
I composed the image slowly, letting the symmetry and softness guide my frame. I wanted to capture more than what was visible. The quiet strength. The mirrored stillness. The honesty of this place. And maybe, just maybe, the sense that time had paused for a breath.
Photography, for me, is not just about light and composition—it’s about connection. This image connects me to something greater: the rhythm of the earth, the dignity of tradition, and the beauty of things that ask nothing but to be seen.
