I've been painting all my life.
In my head.
And in my throat.
The possibility to use shapes and forms,
hasn't occur to me for a lifetime.
What I could do, was fantasize.
But the School for Journalism
didn't have a place for me, twice.
We made music.
In a small basement.
Feeling the bones rattle.
Turnaround fair '77, i guess.
No painting, no writing, no music.
Creativity in cauliflowers.
Own choice, fair is fair.
Happiness: wife, kid, own business, house, jobs.
Pauli P and the reborn faith.
Lots of music.
Four times a week.
Melodies and lyrics.
Good old times and missed opportunities.
Never too late to start.
Mirrors and biggest fans.
A new milennium.
And everything stopped.
It was good, but enough.
A fat line under the old life.
Wife, house, job...out the window.
Reincarnation with Mia.
And coming home with Patricia.
'Freedom' is the magic word.
No more MUST !
No more commanding bosses.
No more mandatory visits.
No more meaningless talk birthdays...
But painting... creating, every day.
Shapes and colors of the inside
thoughts and feelings,
Me for real.
Living and being aware of everything.
Trying to judge nobody,
since we're all part of the whole, that is GOD.