Summer stroll in the South of France, high up, below the peaks, with a fly rod.
We feel human, we don’t feel crushed by the hight of the peaks, you can tell yourself you can reach them. We’re probably in the Pyrenees, or in the Southern Alps. The nights are cool, the days hot and dry, you can see miles around, the only thing breaking the silence is the sound of nature, crickets cricketing, birds chirping and the call of the trout. Can you hear the trout in the rumble of the stream ? “catch me ! catch me ! Come play with me!”. The trout I said!