In the early hours of the morning, as the night recedes and the storm subsides, a miraculous sight comes into view. The summits the Grand Combin, dominated by its three mythical peaks - Combin de Tsessette, Grafeneire and Valsorey - emerge one by one from the swirl of mist. In the foreground, La Sâle and Le Pleureur, mountains familiar to Verbier visitors, are revealed in subtle shades of grey and white. A scarf of clouds slides over their flanks, revealing just enough of their edges for us to glimpse the majesty of the rock. To the right of Le Pleureur, the Bouc ridge stretches out and leads up to the Pantalons Blancs bivouac, like a fine bridge linking valley and sky.

To observe such a moment is to feel the very life of the high mountains. The energy of the storm has dissipated, giving way to a spellbinding calm. Rare gusts of wind continue to lift the snow and throw it into the rays of light, occasionally illuminating a snow-covered slope or the crest of a summit. We can then make out the volumes sculpted by the fresh powder, underlining the purity of unexplored slopes. In this Light orchestrated by the winter sun, the black and white reveals the power of relief: each asperity of the rock takes on a singular relief, each shade of grey seems to tell a thousand-year-old story.

From time to time, a veil of mist closes in, swallowing up part of the scene, and you'd think the whole mountain was about to disappear. But instead, the summits emerge again, brighter than before, like islets emerging from a tumultuous sea. This constant ebb and flow of clouds lends the moment its dreamlike dimension: at once tangible and elusive, the mountain slips away and reveals itself in the same breath. It's precisely this contrast, between the cottony softness of the mists and the unshakeable ruggedness of the peaks, that fascinates me and that I'm trying to transcribe in this work.

The Grand Combin, usually so imposing, seems to float above the world, as if it had distanced itself from the valley. Le Pleureur, with its slender form reminiscent of a ship ready to cut through the foam of the clouds, stands as a haughty sentinel. The stockier Sâle imposes its reassuring presence, while the slender, bold Bouc ridge traces an improbable path to the heights. The Pantalons Blancs bivouac, so tiny in this vastness, sits on this ridge with a boldness that commands respect. At every glance, you can see the disproportion between nature and man's sparse facilities.

In this low, softly contrasting light, I wanted to emphasize the almost sacred aspect of the landscape. The delicate shadows, the furtive rays that caress a snow-covered slope, the mist that breaks to reveal a distant summit : everything contributes to creating a suspended universe. You have the sensation of being on the edge of a celestial kingdom, where time seems to slow down to make way for contemplation alone. The air is crisp, almost biting, and the silence disturbed only by the light breeze. As the seconds tick by, the mind slips away, transported by the raw, serene beauty of the high mountains.

It's in these moments that I find the deepest reason for my photographic approach. Capturing the rare moment when the storm clears and the sky opens, when the summits are dressed in a new, immaculate robe, is a quest for truth. Here, in the purity of black and white, the timeless majesty of the Alps is expressed: a world where everything fades away, except the invisible link that unites us with nature and the infinite.