Born in 1948, Yvan Travert spent his childhood in this dark yet luminous world, sculpted by the wind and lulled by tales of travel—the Cotentin. The return of great fishing expeditions, the return from war, the lost memory of great transatlantic ships… As far as the eye can see, the long valleys of sand evoke the steppes of Central Asia for those who wish to see them that way. He was not yet twenty when he set off alone to meet the Surma people in Ethiopia. From Guizhou to Myanmar, from Argentina to Chad, from London to Algiers, and up to the mountains of Nagorno-Karabakh, he was always on the go. For more than sixty years, as modernity swept over the world and seemed to erase its borders, he placed a bet that traveling was still possible.
A privileged echo of thousands of silent little worlds, Yvan Travert shares the poetry of a gaze that dares to show in a world that now only seeks to prove—a gaze that is both sincere and unique.
