My Tunisia, that of "This is not about Tunisia", resembles this fleeting moment that is the blue hour, this moment of grace between melancholy and light. The heart wavers, evanescent, changing. It is this moment when the blue, sublimated by the last glimmer of the sun, crosses and gradually gives way to darkness. Light and shadow brush against each other with the tips of the fingers, exchange, then each return to their extreme.

This almost original dialogue nourishes my photographic gaze. This Tunisia is that of my doubts, where my reality collides with my dreams, a bipolar cycle echoing myself, wandering on the horizon of my childhood.

I see this hypnotic sea, calm and soothing, in which I let myself be enveloped without fear... like a child in its mother's arms. But it is there, in this deceptive tranquility, that the storm is born.