Time rolls the waves , some edgy and some smooth. They roll over the shore. They deepen into capricious weather. The deepest waters are the darkest. Winds and streams change the waters’ colours. What if the motherland is not a land but water? What if its fluid mass that does not belong to any certain ground?
I bring my water colours to the shore - they are capricious. I choose ochre for the horizon line, I move my brush to let the water run. Then pick sienna to dissolve the yellow.
The water takes its path, no frame and no restraint. I do not choose to stay one place for long. The colour shows its way. Like water I do not belong, To either side, I pass and rest one place, then rush and fight another.