Black and white portrait of the Finsteraarhorn. A perfect pyramid, guardian of the bernese alps, standing at 4,274 meters above sea level. In this black-and-white photograph, I wanted to reveal the very essence of this mountain: the pure élan of its face, the ridge stretching skywards, the majesty of a summit dominating a world of mist and silence.

On the day this picture was taken, the Finsteraarhorn had just fought off a storm. The gusts had sculpted its face in a silvery veil, leaving a fine, nervous texture on the rock. The light, soft but incisive, underlined every relief, every fault, as if the mountain itself wanted to tell its story.

To capture this portrait, it wasn't just a matter of being there at the right moment. It required years of vigilance, climbing and patience. Because in the Alps, nothing is given: everything is earned. The wait is long, the opportunities rare, and yet every storm carries with it the promise of a unique moment.

On this day, that promise was fulfilled. The Finsteraarhorn presented itself in all its grandeur, free of clouds and bathed in an almost unreal light. Faced with it, we feel tiny and yet infinitely alive.

To photograph the mountain is to converse with it. It means accepting its silences, respecting its anger and celebrating its offerings. And when the summit reveals itself like this, pure and proud, you understand why you persevered, why you waited. This moment becomes a part of you, engraved in the eternity of the image.