Début janvier des arbres morts, isolés, entassés, droits, couchés, penchés, similaires, mais jamais identiques, c’est le spectacle qu’offrent les rues de nos villes. Entre désintérêt et tristesse, les passants se fraient un chemin parmi cette forêt éparse. Pourtant, si l’on prend la peine d’arrêter son regard, si l’on accepte de les voir, ces sapins se parent d’un nouvel esthétisme urbain.



At the beginning of January when we look at the streets of our cities, we see dead trees piled on top of one another; some are standing upright, some at an angle, some laying flat. They are all similar but never identical. Passers-by, caught between a lack of interest and sadness, hurry past, carving a path through this sparse forest. And yet, were they to stop for a moment to actually look at these fir trees, they would see that they have acquired a new form of urban aesthetics.