Windless

Yvoire, Haute-Savoie, France. For the eyes and ears which live in a place where the wind is ever present – a breeze, a gust – its absence becomes loud. There’s something striking about the stillness of this lake, it doesn’t look dead, but almost as if the world is whispering instead of the usual bumbling chatter that I’m used to. But it doesn’t look fragile either, the strength in its quietness is what I strive to be.

Silence