Saint Girons in wintertime is a ghost village. When I park in the morning, there are no other cars there. I walk down the strip to the sea and everything is closed and shut. The sand has blown all over the walking lane. I hesitate about the feeling: scary or calm? A little bit of both.
The thunder of the sea is strong, yet there is no wind at all. Strange....
I walk along the beach, take some photos... listen to the noise. When you take the time to listen you start hearing more and more things. The distant even roar, the sound of waves breaking and the higher hissing sound of the foamy water rising high up on the sand.
A couple with a dog shows up. A lonely elderly man sits facing the sea.
The space is open, the air is high.
