This is a painting I made some years ago... really a long time ago. I wasn't thinking while working at it. Just going... and going... I was seventeen, I think, or eigthteen already? No, I was going to be eigthteen in that year, but still wasn't. The painting goes along with me since then. It got always a place where I can see it. This isn't something I make consciously, I just do it every time after moving. At the moment it is on the wall in front of my desktop a little bit hidden by the computer.
To create something is nothing that is only a amusent or hobby for me. It is something that I need and too often I didn't stop and took my time for it. Although I know how much it means to me and how good it feels just to create. It helps to handle all the emotions for which words are often missing and it makes me smile to see a thing I make "come to life". It doesn't matter if it is something big or just some silly doodle. The process of creation itself is the important aspect. And yes, I do love all the things I create already in the state of just being a single idea.
This painting is me. A self-portrait made a long time ago. I cannot be objective to judge whether it is good or bad as a painting itself but I still can recall where I was standing in my room painting it. Why I had to do it and all the mingled feelings inside of me. And although I have grown over the time, so much more which defines me or experinces which broaded my mind since then, it is still me.
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