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Breaking

That night, the rain beat violently to the pavement. In the distance, the shouts of an angry child who was crying, tore the heavy silence of this dreary summer evening.

We talked, discussed, and then we played. Each turn, we released maliciously hurtful and demeaning words, words with no real likelihood, but now have serious consequences.

We could go back, no, impossible, in spite of ourselves, we had crossed too many barriers. The break seemed inevitable. And our true love, it remained only smoking ruins. Gradually, our passions spent relentlessly engulfed in turmoil marred our hopes.

Cupid is gone, leaving behind only a pile of broken arrows. Cupid is gone, leaving behind only a shadow of a faded rose.

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Nostalgia Collection 2009 - Part 2

The smoky

A cigarette in hand, always an air cleared and discreet, behind the blue smoke curls from her, she tries in vain to hide. The simplicity of these traits make him believe that she suffers from banality. Yet in his way when he arrived, the heads are constantly turning, hearts continue to get carried away.

Indian Eden

A sad summer evening, the away, I heard screaming, she was wandering on the streets alone with nobody to talk to, when our eyes met, I knew I had to remove it, take her away from here to an Eden Sunny, a place where she can finally rest so as she begins to see the gods

Androgyne melancholy

You possess the beauty of pain and sadness of misfortune, you make no difference, you train everyone in your dance, no rhythm in your medley. You have the bitter taste of our past happiness and the acidity of our forgotten glories. Your coming scares. Amie Junk your presence makes the air breathable. Your company reminds us all that we are blameworthy

A rainy day

Another day of heavy weather, even an afternoon, where I stood under the drops of rain, shivering. There was no soul who live in these gloomy street. Yet suddenly, in the light of a lightning tore the sky. I glimpse back, trembling under his black umbrella. Immediately, the charm works at the sight of this perfect silhouette. I felt my whole being flown to the paradise. Magic or witchcraft, I can not say, but that moment remains in my mind with the same intensity today.

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J e invite you to explore my works over and through this little blog. Remain seated and keep your eyes peeled.

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I want to sincerely thank everyone who supported me from the beginning: Ghislaine, my mother, my 3 brothers Fabrizio, Kevin and Anthony, and all my friends and girlfriends, Alain, Christian Fred, Audrey, Yann, Nicole, Patricia, Fabio, Alex Benoit Julien, Muriel, Corinne, Thierry, Dora, Cedric, Greg, Pascal, Candice, Celine, Freddy, Gaetan, Virginia, Xavier, Jean-Blaise, Florence Julie, Luis, Christine, Sandra, Soraya, Veronica. And a big thank you to Virginia who instilled in me the energy to lead this project.

Thank you all from my heart for your support and your encouragement.

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Acknowledgements Contact

All persons interested in acquiring a work or a project with me can contact me to submit the following email address:
fagherazziph@netplus.ch or 076 / 463.54.10

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Collection 2009 - Part 1

The Girl by the Lake

the outskirts of Castle while my boat in the calm waters of Lake rushing, she came to me. His eyes gleaming, his presence reassured me, as if from heaven, someone wanted to embrace me in his arms. Prisoner of her own, without preamble, I joined the camp of tightrope walkers.

Since then, I wander in search of the Naiad, who that day saved me from drowning. Since then, I wander in the hope of finding her, the fairy, who is now in my heart ever parade.

Sketch postmortem

Day your funeral, when your bier, while the sky seemed to fly our prayers. Read on your face happiness and peace. Stress and depravity of life seemed to have gone away. Certainly at this moment, at this precise moment your soul strolling, light, in the green meadows of paradise.

A rainy day II

Given this grid, for a rainy day, appeared to me that Princess Indian enchanting vision of a beautiful gypsy. She had begun to shelter under the imposing tree flowers. The rain was beating the pavement, while in the puddles, her face was reflected. In those fleeting moments, over and through this fleeting apparition of an angel without wings, I began to think that perhaps, without it, the storm had continued and ever, without doubt, my eyes would have glimpsed again the beautiful blue clear skies.