A Purple Dress


I've been asking myself what I am lately … a calligrapher or a painter. A year ago the answer was obvious … it's not anymore. As always, it is beyond my reach, hidden between dreams, realities and expectations.

I dreamt I wore a purple dress … sleeveless and made of silk. I was sitting in front of a mirror. Somebody was standing behind me, a shape of a person, a man. I kept staring at my reflection, while he was slowly walking across the dark room towards me. I could not see his face. It wasn’t important who he was, neither why I was wearing that dress nor why his steps were so unbearably slow.

Meanwhile I'll keep painting …



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