I first visited Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines on a stormy day. There was no one in the street and the sky loomed overhead. I was taken by the atmosphere. I looked at the river that runs along the road – the Liepvrette, which crosses the valley. The movement and sound of the water consoled me. For me, the Liepvrette river is the identity of Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines. The sound of its water is like an intermediary between the river and the town’s residents. It runs through the valley like a spinal cord. The mineral washing and fabric making that helped this village prosper were made possible by this river, which today flows discretely through town and is less important than before. Nevertheless, it continues to console the hearts of those who live here, all along its course – myself included, in fact. I grew up in a house on the edge of a small river with the sound of water in my ears. This sound is engraved in my memory. When I close my eyes, it wells up from the bottom of my heart. I began by shooting the surface of the Liepvrette from every bridge in Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines.