It is a new street, a new house..a new life. Life changed and I changed with it. The moment I stepped into this house I felt like it had been waiting for me. With it's creaking floors, glass doors and closets with strangely ornate wallpaper..it was like it was haunted. Haunted by every place I had ever been happy. I touched the walls and felt the uneven surface of a home where I had felt safe as a child before I knew what being foreign meant. The yellow afternoon light was shining in and the breeze reminded me of days waking up late at 19 in my chaotic but liberated new life. The sounds and smells of the place where I lit a fire every morning. It has the warm and homely insufficiency I came to adore when the English kindly took me in. Where I saw my baby grow up. It was like I was finally home after such a long journey. I put my Art Nouveau bag down, like a metaphorical witch, and creativity started pouring out of it. It has been years and years since people have seen my strange artworks because once at a railway station really doesn't count!
But after a series of much more fortunate events suddenly everything seems possible. Almost easy. Like arabesque flowing on a paper. Life will never be the same again but I have now moved beyond the point of no return and I no longer wish I could go back in time. It is time for my creations to pour out of my my window, out onto the street.
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