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It was our first stop on our way to the south of France in the early summer of 2011. Cap Griz Nez at the Côte d’Opale.

I remember it, as if it was yesterday. And it’s all because of one thing: the cold, killing rocks that rose up out of the Atlantic Ocean.
The harsh wind not only threw itself brutally against the steep wall.

With my Nikon strap tight around my right hand, I was set to search for the right spot to take a picture of this dramatic scenery. Just seconds after I took this shot, a young seagull cried for help. It was smacked against the sharp edges of the cliffs. Its bloody, broken wing contorted over its back. Its high-pitched voice screamed a sad, black song with the wind. I went slowly to the gull while the pebbles crunched under my boots. It stopped screaming but it was as if it were not scared of me. Not at all. I took the time to see if I could help it in any way but anyone could figure out the young animal had no chance at all to survive. It was like a painful cramp ripped through my chest, since I’ve never been good at this. Behind me there was a piece of wood that washed ashore and as I grasped it out of the sand I felt doubt. Fear even….

Seconds later it was all over. No more pain. No more despair. No more doubt.

I hope you’ll fly again, my friend…. I truly hope you’ll forgive me for what I thought was best….

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