At first glance the valley, which stretches for some ten kilometres, may seem dead: breathtakingly beautiful but deserted. Yet if you listen, you realise that in this environment sounds carry well beyond the eye. Put away the map you were carrying and take to the paths, and you glimpse the manifestations of life that, with the sun at its highest, have taken refuge in the shade of the olive trees. If you take the time to follow the sound of the bell hanging from a cow's neck, the rustle of a mountain torrent, the notes escaping from a radio on the beach, the hooves resounding on the ground or the engine of a Harley heard in the distance, you can catch a glimpse of a face of Corsica that, if we do not pay attention, risks passing under our nose. "I fell in love with the robustness of the island, and I began to take my own notes and keep a journal from one place to another," explains Anton Renborg, a photographer of Swedish origin who criss-crossed the Island of Beauty over four summers (2006 to 2009).