"We don't become a poet, we suddenly discover that we are."

"We can not create emotions if we don't have lived."
Jennifer Orhélys


"Women", UK, 2019.
"Quotes", UK, 2019.
Hesa Print Magazine.
POV, The LOVe Issue.
POV, The Modern Life.

"My poems find echoes through my life, experiences, what I dream, what I hope and believe. I have always been watching the world, and I am like a sponge while exploring the different facets of my personality, sincerity, rebellious, human with different flavours and heavenly. I like to write as much as to photograph; that's why nature strongly imaged in my poems. Reverie, hope, images, love, sometimes melancholy have been recurring themes for many years. But, I tend towards peace, and the desire to bring emotion at least I hope positively."




Panic thought, in circular hormone,
Breathe, beyond the words,
Think, hope.
Know, the love of beings,
Of every.
To be crumbling around me,
Roll, roll,
Crush, in the midle morning,
Light leaf,
My reverence, while waiting,
Your Kiss.
I feel under your skin,
Teeming with your tears,
and tears.
I fly,
I m escaping,
In the light of twilight,
Effortlessly tending,
Belly to belly, part two,
Tango sovereign,
Icy abyss,
I love you.
Insignifiant thoughts,
The sun shines,
light in,
Quadrille, the beauty of
Your deep black.
Behind the vines,
Behind the world,
all rebound,
absolute desire,
feel you,
At hand,
The End.

Aqua Hypnotica,

Everything shines. 

The mirror of the immense reflection on the water - blows in the green leaves of this old tree.

The sweet grass under my hands,
Sovereign laughter.

Time surely plays tricks - eyes open on the drops, the drops of your fingers falling one by one my marble eyelids.

Luminescence, and millions of small crystals rolling on this soft and fresh skin, without the trouble of the dry season.

Aqua Hypnotica, we will shine like an explosion.

I shiver vainly, in suspension. 

Time undoubtedly plays tricks - eyes open on the drops, the drops of your cheeks.

The warm wind breathes the foliage, roses, red and white. By this sweetness of living my mind escapes.

Time undoubtedly plays tricks on me.

Aqua Hypnotica, we willl shine like an explosion. 

This ultimate tenderness, fitting of the film, will long used. Shine the emerald of the immense parade. 

Breathe, in the yellow leaves of the old tree.

Aqua Hypnotica, we will shine like an explosion.


My face is white magnetic.

Quiet, small and delicate breathing,

in all safety.

A fragile swing.

The black is enough for me,

The moon shines.

Sucked, by kind, prolific grace,

From a dusty presence,

Like a gentleness,


And ice my blood.

The great whole is written to feel,

The lively feeling,

Where the light of the storm rushes,

With lightness,

In my capricious soul,

Distant and tired.

Some laugh, some pray,

Whose destiny is to believe,

has deep and rich elsewhere,


Children of the Stars.

*    *    *


Dust of snow in the spring hours, 
A laugh, 
Words thrown,
On the fly, 
Spinning English, 
Spicy mint sauce with water,
Oh ! 
The sky roars, 
With significant blows of tons of air, 
Butterflies gold, 
And already,
Cling to my brown curls, 
To perfect me, 
Far from here,
Finish the circus glacier.


A flower of skin, 

A flower of the water, 

In parade ice,

Eh! The skin of sorrows, 

Small seeds of grain, 

Throwing the skin of the bear on the 


No trace of the nets of stars, 

Which immunize the sky, 

With the eternal beverages,

Sliding along the cold sweats, 

To split the flower of the reasons.

The Time get away for good,

The world,

is only sand,

From which flows the amphora, 


Time passes and leaves, 

All traces of soot on the faces, 

The low shots have only flaws,

 Its unknown eye.

*    *    *

The Heavens,

Atone and staring at the heavens,

For an answer bitter, and too much regular, to believe in oneself. 

Depositing at the feet of the colossus, the arms, to presume gently, 

The tears of the sun. 

Mothering, the white hair of angel, grimed and wild. 

Born with this fear of living much more than that of dying. 

And in this derisory vision,

The Light was. 

Then comes the caress of an evening, lying in the dark, sweeping all certainties, so-called electric waves. 

With a hand, reducing to nothing, the bottom blade, 

and all largesse of a deprogrammed end.

A well-kept dungeon, 

An old soul, offered itself to the mirror, for a young mind. 

In a tiresome imposture, casually, a temptation defended, tormenting defences.

In a pariah, she blew, the heart opened by a blast, reaction. 

Hands are thinking thoughts, unbearable daytime pain from a fraternity in ruins. 

The door slammed shut, from the defending tower, a caress gently moved away, 

the thought flower, stole its apophthegms, swirling unequivocally above. 

From his head, course shine in a cavalcade of an ideal. 

The azure blue eyes, filled with purple colour, paradise overseas, were said in a descent of the bed — the corollary movement, of a black rose. 

Of the morning, they have passed, blue and primary green, 

So that the life murmurs, 

Once again.

The Heart,

To tear the heart, on the pique of the clouds, 

Evolution, demolition.

I look at the world through your eyes. 

Tournament of conjunctures, aphrodisiac.

Tell me your lives. 

To pass to say nothing of others. 

A small step, or two, 

Without you, 

How do you say,

The harm it does,

To wait for the sky, to pass 

Without you.

*    *    *

"My only freedom is to dream, so I dream of freedom"

Life is not a long, quiet river; it was many hardships along the way. A true artist is a wounded being who expresses a vision of the world - or at least the ideal towards which he or she strives. The freedom to dream, to think, to act and to be must be preserved; that's what I'm trying to convey through my photographs.

Many people have died for the right to live in peace, but it may be that in the 21st century, the only real freedom is the freedom to dream.

I, therefore, create a dream-world where I am the protagonist. I am also the author, the actress, the hairdresser, the make-up artist and stylist - to offer spectators a moment of exceptional sharing with someone detremined to express all the emotional facets of her soul. It is - hopefully - a magical, sensitive moment that guides to the dream and the unknown.

My self-portraits are therefore pictorial stories where the " Wild creatures" express their ambivalent and heart-rending feelings.

By the freedom and the emotion that carries me, I create an imaginary world, colored and imbued with the subtle messages of solitary heroines.

"Quotes", Book, UK, 2019.

"When you realise that nature can kill you, you become humble."

This fragile universe requires our attention. We cannot rely on those in power to honour the legitimacy of the living world.

In my work I am searching for a sensory and emotional response; to capture the beauty of creation; to explore the simplicity of nature in its most uncomplicated state.

Things, elements, circumstances, all attract my eye as an artist. The photographer's gaze feeds the observer, eager to show what we no longer see, triggering contradictions of conscience and uncovering that which has been forgotten, distorted or even obscured.

I don’t know where we are going nor how we are going to move forward in this century but things are better when a sufficient number of people decide that finally, they have to get better.

Change happens when ordinary people choose to take action together.

"Women", Book, UK, 2019.

Je suis le Roi du Soleil,

Je Louis dans le noir.
Partout sans savoir,
Tout le monde, se plie.
Par delà, le cri,
D'un enfant, où la larme,
Où tous les êtres des Univers,
Baissèrent la tête, de désespoir.
La promesse, d'un enfant-roi,
divin, solaire,
De brûler la Terre,
Des hommes.
Passe le trépas,
car la pluie reviendra,
en fin.

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