FEET IN THE WATER IN THE HEART OF THE SALT MEADOWS

I don't know if Forrest Gump and Bubba experienced this fine rain in Vietnam.
This small rain, fine and light like a cloud which explodes slowly.
This fine and light rain that settles delicately on the clothes, on the hair,
not daring to get wet except in contact with the hand, with the wrinkling of clothes.
Anyway, my 80s trench coat is soaked, my shoes drowned in flooded sand paths.
Walking in the wind, I protect my Rolleiflex like a pregnant woman protects her pregnant woman protects her belly. We are a Sunday morning of February in the heart of the salt marshes between Lège and Arès, seeking to translate an idea of image that I have in the thoughts.
The sky is covered, the weather is gloomy. It is a perfect setting in abyme of the feeling that I decided to exploit. Touching my hyper sensitivity, I press the shutter button.