La Mort de l'Été.

La Mort de l'Été was filmed during one of the final mountain trips of the summer.

Not the end of summer in the calendar sense, but the end of the season as I know it. The period of the year when most of my time is spent in the Pyrenees, moving between valleys, peaks, trails and long days outdoors.

The film follows a simple mountain excursion shared with one of my closest friends, someone with whom I've spent countless days hiking, skiing and exploring the places that matter most to me.

What interested me wasn't the destination itself, but the emotional contrast that exists within almost every adventure.

The way there and the way back rarely feel the same.

The first half of the film is driven by movement. It's fast, energetic and occasionally chaotic. Double exposures overlap constantly, creating a sense of anticipation and momentum. It reflects the excitement of setting out, the curiosity of discovering a route for the first time and the restless energy that often accompanies the climb.

The second half shifts completely.

The pace slows down. The images become cleaner. The music softens.

What remains is the quiet satisfaction that arrives once the objective is behind you. The conversations become slower. The pressure disappears. The experience begins to settle into memory.

Looking back, the film became a reflection on something I often find in the mountains.

Not the summit itself, but the rhythm of the journey.

The tension of going.

The calm of returning.

And the strange feeling that appears when you realise a season, a trip or a chapter is slowly coming to an end.

La Mort de l'Été means "The Death of Summer."

A dramatic title for a simple hike, perhaps.

But every year, somewhere in the mountains, there comes a moment when you can feel summer beginning to slip away. The light changes. The air feels different. The days grow shorter.

This film was my attempt to hold onto that feeling for a little longer.