Grégory Cappoen
Lever Harp


Pause. Freeze.
Evening. Movements and rhythms are slowing down, sounds are losing their strength, colors, their intensity, and the heart lets itself win by a gentle melancholy.

Night. The light gradually disappears. The waiting is battling with anxiety through the shadows and thoughts that freeze.

Morning. The first rays of sun illuminate dew splinters and feed the soul of a constantly renewed hope.
Conception Nicolas Garcelon