Inspired by Eugène Boudin (1824 – 1898) – Honfleur’s lighthouse (around 1854 – 1860) – Charcoal / Pastel on grey paper – 9,45 x 12,60 inch

Every morning since 10 years, Georges takes a walk around the lighthouse. He particularly enjoys its wild and frightening side, mostly on stormy days. The raging sea takes its last waves to death near the shore. The bells ring off the charts and the lantern swings endlessly to warn sailors from dangerous reefs. As a matter of fact, the spot can be fatal. Old people tell all kind of scary stories about this legendary place. Georges,author, has tried many times to write a book on this topic however he never made it. Tongues loosen over a drink but quickly freeze once home. He has tested useless different approaches in the last years. He finally gave up and performs his daily pilgrimage instead.Today, the atmosphere seems specific. Seagulls fly low in the sky, squawking loud. The swell moves hastily, in a jerky music. Eventually, as he approaches the pier, a pungent, foul, repulsive smell tickles his nostrils. Extremely sensitive, he barely stands this mixture of extreme rots that outweigh the heady scent of sea salt. He walks faster, he can’t wait to find out. In his rush, he slips on a seaweed and finds himself face to face with what seems to be a human form. He straightens right away and gets back on his feet. He would have twisted his ankle in the panic he wouldn’t be surprised. He steps back immediately when he realizes what’s in front of his eyes, only a few meters away, he could almost touch it by stretching out his arm, a corpse. It’s a woman’s body, regarding to the long hair covering all of her face. Dry throat, mad heartbeat, Georges is literally petrified. He picks up his cell phone in his pants. He begins to dial 911 but his mobile phone escapes from his shaky hands and crashes on a rock, near the left hand of the dead body. He leans over, notices a ring carried in the annular, special, unique … Oh my God, it’s George’s wife!