As the sun declines and the clouds thicken, the face of the mountain changes. That evening, the Matterhorn appeared in a halo of mystery. Its summit barely emerged from the mist, bathed in the low-angled light of the dying day. The moment was short, fragile, suspended. The scene seemed unreal. The mountain was only partially visible, as if reluctant to reveal itself. And yet, its presence was immense. Every ridge, every detail caught in the light, telling of the strength, solitude and beauty of this legendary summit .

It's moments like these that I'm always looking for. Those where light meets relief in a unique way, where the elements respond to each other. No big blue sky, no clear horizon. Just the Matterhorn, the wind, the clouds, and a golden glow from elsewhere.

The Matterhorn is a mountain I've photographed from all angles, in all seasons. But here, it surprised me. It stood out, strong and silent, in this end-of-day light, between shadow and fire. This photo is one of those that touches me deeply. Because it shows the Matterhorn in a different light. More intimate, more raw, more spiritual.