The silence in the world breaks my restless thoughts. Even my neighborhood has fallen silent. The lines that appear on my sketching paper distort my feelings.
My studio is a playground of ideas and dreams. It is my lonely planet full of wonders. The endless rhythm of the earth in its orbit around the sun. Sun, which controls life on earth. Sun, which can make life appear, as well as disappear. Sun, dictator of the solar system. She is the only force who holding the system together.
The lines slowly take shape. I get swept up in a creative flow.
No one on this planet holds man together. Unity is long way off. We have become a sunless system, hopelessly lost in this infinite Universe.
In my lonely planet, I look out, sighing, through the window of the future. There the skies are always blue and the sunlight shines over the endless distances.
I want to fill in the formed lines later with crayon. Chalk up the dust of centuries. The dust of chalk will soon tickle my nose. I will then struggle with the layering of the chalk color mass. It is not my chalk era, but sometimes I have the childlike need to “play” with chalk again. Like in the old days, when my childhood had not yet left me, on the sidewalk, in front of my parents’ house. Crayoning together with the neighborhood kids.
