Liquid Souls

Since I left the capital, Port-au-Prince, to come back and live here in the countryside, something has gently changed within me. It’s not just a return to nature, it’s as if nature is calling me, as if it’s taking me in its arms. And what touches me the most are those tiny drops of water, just after the rain.

Every morning, with the rustling of leaves, the dance of flowers opening. But it’s after the rain that I really feel the magic.These drops hanging at the tips of leaves they have something fragile, something precious, like little secrets the sky confides to me. I wait for them. As soon as the rain stops, I grab my phone and go to meet them.

One by one, I look at them, I photograph them.Because in these drops, I see life continuing, despite everything. They catch the light, they reflect the branches around, sometimes even my own face faintly drawn within them.

They trace invisible paths, they reveal textures I never notice when everything is dry. These drops

transform a simple corner of nature into a little masterpiece.

For me, these drops are like little liquid souls. They don’t last long, but they leave a deep mark. They remind me that life is fragile, that we need to slow down, stop, look, and feel.

And then there’s that incredible smell of wet earth rising, the grasses gently straightening up, that soft silence between two showers where everything seems possible. Nature offers me this without asking for anything in return. But to see it, I have to be there, present, fully there.