In "La Tunisienne," a woman walks through the ancient scenery of a village in the heart of the desert. Leaning against leaning stone walls or in front of colorful, worn doors, she seems both from here and elsewhere. Her fleeting glances, her simple gestures, her natural elegance evoke a narrative without words. Even alongside an elderly local woman, the connection is woven in the light, the fabrics, the warm hues. It's a contemplative series, imbued with travel, identity, and suspended beauty.

In "La Tunisienne," a woman walks through the ancient scenery of a village in the heart of the desert. Leaning against leaning stone walls or in front of colorful, worn doors, she seems both from here and elsewhere. Her fleeting glances, her simple gestures, her natural elegance evoke a narrative without words. Even alongside an elderly local woman, the connection is woven in the light, the fabrics, the warm hues. It's a contemplative series, imbued with travel, identity, and suspended beauty.

In "La Tunisienne," a woman walks through the ancient scenery of a village in the heart of the desert. Leaning against leaning stone walls or in front of colorful, worn doors, she seems both from here and elsewhere. Her fleeting glances, her simple gestures, her natural elegance evoke a narrative without words. Even alongside an elderly local woman, the connection is woven in the light, the fabrics, the warm hues. It's a contemplative series, imbued with travel, identity, and suspended beauty.

In "La Tunisienne," a woman walks through the ancient scenery of a village in the heart of the desert. Leaning against leaning stone walls or in front of colorful, worn doors, she seems both from here and elsewhere. Her fleeting glances, her simple gestures, her natural elegance evoke a narrative without words. Even alongside an elderly local woman, the connection is woven in the light, the fabrics, the warm hues. It's a contemplative series, imbued with travel, identity, and suspended beauty.

In "La Tunisienne," a woman walks through the ancient scenery of a village in the heart of the desert. Leaning against leaning stone walls or in front of colorful, worn doors, she seems both from here and elsewhere. Her fleeting glances, her simple gestures, her natural elegance evoke a narrative without words. Even alongside an elderly local woman, the connection is woven in the light, the fabrics, the warm hues. It's a contemplative series, imbued with travel, identity, and suspended beauty.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.

In "Le Plongeoir," a woman's presence interacts with the concrete, the rusty metal, and the heavy sky. She anchors herself in the space like a solitary, almost sacred figure.
The poses are upright, symmetrical, almost architectural, in contrast to the restless nature around them. Lake Geneva becomes a silent, tense theater, where everything can change. It's a series about waiting, the power of the moment before the leap... or the choice to stay.