If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? This series begins with that question. It is not about the tree, but about presence and absence, about what exists when we are not there—and what changes the moment we enter the frame. By wandering in daylight through raw landscapes, I pursue the same ritual of dérive that guides my nocturnal work. I walk without destination, attentive to silence, to the detail that fractures routine. But here, the city is replaced by nature: stones, branches, rivers, paths left behind. The world continues without us, yet my images are proof that I was there, that solitude itself can be inhabited. Each photograph is a paradox: a fragment of reality without humans, yet marked by the human gaze. They are windows into moments that do not need us, and at the same time, they exist only because I stopped, framed, and revealed them. This series is not about documenting landscapes, but about opening a space of contradiction—a vision of nature that is both indifferent to us and shaped by us. A reminder that the world does not wait, but can still be met, quietly, in the act of looking.