In the evening atmosphere, powerful gusts sweep the lost valley as a fiery glow gradually seizes the sky. Suspended moment, contradictory contrast between the impassive elements and the tranquility of the summer light. Then, the last colors fade into the dusk.
The wind has finally stopped to blow. Encircled by stars and veiled by cirrus clouds, a half-moon slowly descends towards the western ridges. Slowly, the night rises on the peaks. The silhouettes of some ancestral pines seem to contemplate the breach in front of them, opening into the mountain on the threshold of darkness. Under the immense sky, the last breezes are suspended, and silence finally falls.
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