I sometimes feel I border reality and dream. As if my life were a pendulum going inbetween what I imagine and what is real. It might be that I have not had enough sleep lately, or I have seen to many weird movies. One for instance was 
Henry and June, about the affair between 
Anais Nin and
 Henry Miller. It really made me want to read 
Tropic of Cancer... And then I saw the 
Dreamers, directed by Bertolucci. It wasn't as powerfull as 
Last Tango in Paris I thought, but it was still pretty weird. These movies, about people who experiment, push their lifes beyond 
rules, 
society and 
morality seem to pierce my mind, seem to somhow penetrate my 
heart, just like your 
coldness. And slowly I can feel how my innocence is turning into protective spines full of lies, my 
heart into 
ice.
I painted this as I was watching The Dreamers...
