During this November afternoon, the Strait of Bonifacio was the scene of a theatrical performance for inveterate dreamers.

My route changed course from North to South, to Pertusatu, due to the cancellation of an appointment in Porto-Vecchio.  Overlooking the Strait, the oblique rays of sunlight striking the Sardinian coastline forced me to stop.

I walk with a sturdy and resolute stride, dressed in my city clothes, towards the edge of the cliffs following a small track filled with gravel and white stones, and try not to catch my woollen trousers onto the aggressive cutting branches of the juniper trees that surround the path and wary of the perfectly rounded astragalus with their sharp needles that awaken some stinging memories…

Still prudently approaching the edge of the cliff, my eyes search over the Strait for the mysteries of meteorological changes.

And there, the interpretation of my imagination is immense.  This afternoon, the Strait is totally transformed in the most surprising theatrical procession.

The procession seems to have left the designer houses of the capital to enjoy the natural and environmental scenography of the major issues of the COP21 taking place in Paris in 3 days.

Ingenuously competing with the expression of the shapes, the variation of colours, the structures, various sequences, the clouds impart a vertiginous rhythm to the landscape.

Such as a shredded cotton ball, lightened silk taffeta, a curly woollen jacquard, a crinkled cotton poplin, a bundle of combed wool, scratchy and rough linen, soft and powdery cashmere, fluffy flannel, shiny damask silk and even foamy and transparent crepe; all these imaginary materials take shape in this assembly warmly shaping my vision.

Only whimsical and capricious materials enter the wandering of my spirit…

From very sombre sea and an agitated ocean to the intense blue seabed, the maestria of this representation seems to add value to all that can enhance this scene, all that can make it more visible from afar as well as close by; enacting a sophisticated choreography of the clouds with the natural decors magnified by the play of the lights and sounds.

Invisible to the naked eye, I can see the Sardinian coastline through the viewfinder of my camera with its 200mm lens.  What fabulous show! I can see the steep granite coasts of Northern Sardinia sewn with white sea foam under the projection of sunlight with its strong rays. A soft haze of batiste linen mystifies the horizon, 12 kilometres away.

This ephemeral spectacle tries to create the universe of the designer in every way. The spectator, modestly represented by myself, has entered this creative universe almost part of the living arts.

Vertically, fine Chantilly lace on silk satin delicately sets on the foot of the cliffs and the rolling of foamy waves undress the rocks with a shattering and stabbing noise. And as in all fashion shows, the high point of the collection appears.

An enormous cloud like a ghost draped in a woollen sheet, shaggy and dishevelled by all the environmental absurdities, under this threatening wedding dress, seems to address a message to the planet’s 150 chiefs of State, who are trying to reach an consensus to limit global warming.

It can traverse frontiers and communicate its message internationally; to be the parable between our aspirations and insatiable aggressive urges whatever the consequences for nature.

Hello Paris, did you get the message… The show of the Strait is over!

Bonifacio, Corsica, France