My Dream

To be free.

To do my own work.

This was my dream since I was this big.

I was about five years old when I stepped inside an art studio for the first time.

My mother took me to one of her art classes and the teacher arranged for me
to sit in a tiny chair, at a tiny table, in a nice little corner of her studio, from
where I could see my mother and all the other students doing their work.

She got me brushes and paints, some soft cream colored paper and

a big bowl of water, through which the morning sunlight shined and sparkled.

For the next two hours the room became quiet and calm.
Only the soft sound of brushes on canvas, pencils on paper,
the splashing of water and the occasional sneeze could be heard.

When the sun changed color, the smell of tea and cookies awakened the room and for
a brief period of time the students engaged in lively conversation and joyful laughter.

Then the silence would embrace us all once more and for the next couple of hours
only the brushes and pencils would talk.

It was perfect.

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To contact me please click here.