Winter
Winter has a color, the color of cold, of ice. Our perceptions themselves are modified, sounds attenuated by snow or mist, the gaze discovering for the first time a landscape often traveled.
A tree, an element of everyday life until then drowned in the multitude of information that the gaze captures becomes the unique object, center of our attention.
Its very essence is then altered, and from photography, it becomes drawing, engraving.
