No matter the poet’s command to his island to exist, the land has slipped downwards unable to resist the inexorable corrosion of avid salt and bitter winds. The invisible dissolution started from a forgotten end of the island, where some daily life went on god knows how.
From dexterity to giving a hand to a neighbour, the people from Nord-Plage benefitted from the riches of the deprived. Hidden from the rest of the world Nord-Plage remained creole. Life was still easy-going.
The decayed walls now appear as a marine mix of blues and greens, and it is impossible to know whether this was god's hand or time. Under the corrugated iron roofs with the richness of concrete around, Nord - Plage has never ceased to fraternize with nature. Cuddled between the cliff and the sea, Nord -Plage seems to have emerged from a dialogue between elements.
Modernity itself could not invade it with its prestige and facilities without complying with the
inevitable rituals of the site. That is how the electrical wires displayed in a cross, have come to complete the way of the cross that connects Nord - Plage to the rest of the island .
Today the cabins and the lanes are deserted. Who will ever know what promises were lost in this gaping holes? The rusted corrugated iron of the roof have merged with the grey sky and grey also are the sea and the pebbles. Nord – Plage has been given back to the elements. Nord Plage has lost its stamina! And this is the lost scream that these photographs are showing.