...living the life in present, hoping for future, painting past in bright coulors that fade in the ordinery "now" falling asleep hungry, to wake up feeling stuffed, yet the empty stomach cries for fuel - and so does other particular organ, like the air pressure that causes wind, it moves in the direction it is drawn to - seemingly confused, Brownian motion, so random - yet it still happens to find beautiful places where it rests for a while before the wind blows again, and as the days pass towards uncertain future with an unknown coluor - I paint it pink, because the picture is mine ...