France, mother of the arts, arms and laws,
You fed me for a long time with the milk of your udder:
Ores, like a lamb that calls its nurse,
I fill the dens and the woods with your name.
If you have confessed to me sometimes,
What do you not answer me now, oh cruel?
France, France, answer my sad quarrel.
But no one, except Echo, answers my voice.
Between the cruel wolves I wander among the plain,
I feel winter coming, whose cold breath
A trembling horror makes my skin bristle.
Alas, your other lambs have no lack of pasture,
They are not afraid of the wolf, the wind or the cold:
If not yet I am the worst of the herd.
Joachim du Bellay “Les Regrets” 1558.
The beauty of a photograph is made up of three essential angles: the frame, the brightness and the sound. Requiem for a dream. Work of Gokhan Altintas Photography with his Muse Elora Delapierre performed in its studios Paris .