Ondergelopen straat en gebouwen tijdens de overstroming van Parijs, gezien vanuit een trein 1910 - 1911

G. Dangereux's photograph captures a flooded street and buildings in Paris, viewed from a train. The sepia tones create a muted palette, like a memory fading. The world looks submerged; the lack of contrast almost reflects the gloom of the disaster. I love how the image is caught on the move from a train, as if we’re passing through this moment in history. The tracks run in the foreground, a sharp horizontal line that grounds the chaos of the flooded city beyond. Look at the way the buildings blur into the sky, the water reflecting a ghostly echo of what once was. There's a raw, documentary feel, as if Dangereux wanted to capture not just the scene but the feeling of helplessness and awe in the face of nature’s power. It reminds me a little of some of Gerhard Richter’s blurred paintings, where clarity gives way to a kind of emotional truth. The photograph becomes less about the specific buildings and more about the experience of witnessing something overwhelming. A record of a fleeting moment, and a reminder that even the most solid structures can be swallowed up by the flow of time and water.