In the midst of the storm above Zermatt, the Castor suddenly appears. At an altitude of 4,225 metres, it splits the sky and lets itself be caressed by the delicate light. The mist spreads around it, hugging its edges, revealing and then concealing its shapes in a bewitching dance.

The mountain breathes. Its face is covered with wind-blown snow, its slopes clothed in shifting shadows. At this altitude, winter never fades. All it takes is a puff of wind for it to reclaim its rights. Then the Castor bursts into flames, a powerful, sumptuous and invincible creature.

Under such conditions, man remains a spectator. The mountain gives itself, but forbids access. It imposes its law, fierce and sublime, reminding us that its kingdom is not to be conquered, but contemplated.

The contrast is overwhelming. Dazzling snow mingles with deep shadows. Mist caresses the flanks like an invisible hand. Light underlines the lines with crystalline precision. Everything becomes movement, intensity, splendor. The Castor, Pollux's brother, embodies the grandeur of the Alps in its purest expression.

I frame to capture this moment, this miracle of balance between the power of nature and the fragility of its beauty. The Castor rises like an untamed flame, reminding those who contemplate it of the smallness of their own existence. This work is not an invitation to climb, but an inner journey. To the frontiers of the high-mountain realm, and to the very depths of ourselves.