I was born and raised in Belgium, but part of me always reached elsewhere, to a place that felt familiar without words. Each time I travelled to Tunisia, I wandered through the narrow, sun-washed passages of the souks, drawn instinctively to the old jewelry shops. I remember a small one in Tunis, its door half-open, its boxes filled with forgotten silver. Each piece felt like a secret being revealed, a quiet treasure carrying the breath of another time.

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The goldsmith, Hechem, told me stories of the hands that once made them, of women who wore them with pride. Listening to him, I realised I wasn’t only looking at objects, but at fragments of memory, traces of something I had always been part of. That feeling never left.

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What began as curiosity grew into a devotion: tracing, understanding, and restoring these pieces as if they were clues in a puzzle of belonging. It became my way of listening to the past, and of speaking back to it. Fayahen was born from that pursuit. It started as an extension of my own journey, but over time it became something larger, a living space for others who feel the pull between worlds, who are searching for connection through beauty, craftsmanship, and cultural memory.

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Each piece, whether found or created, carries that intention: to remember, to reimagine, and to share what was once hidden.