AbdelAziz Alhaider Biography

The words were flowing….colliding….snapping
My erupt from the fountain of sorrow
The closed door….the few hard verses
The first surprising fountain……the smell of paint…the lilting of the rhythm
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This open sky of my pictures
And no one look
This crowd dancing in the festival of my pictures
And no one look
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There, ….. there is no sea, there is no blue

There is no wood in the foundations of the subject of the docks
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Magician

who is breaking this arch of the blossoming sleepy under the eyelids?
Who is breaking in of this dream.... Rose.... And flooding on the shores of most sad longing and suffering and hardship......! !
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Memories

The river is spreading a memory made by mud and small stones
alluvium... palm leaves
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