On Monday, 4th October 2010, taking the train home at night, inside my tiredness and my thoughts, an action painter catches my face and starts drawing, exposing it with charcoal: I barely have energy to smile, thinking only of going to sleep after a long day. The train arrives. The painter tears the page and gives it to me without asking for any money. I take it smilingly and realize the picture doesn’t look like me at all. I’m exhausted, fair enough. But happy, and the picture has neither joy nor colors. I arrive home and immediately enter a dream state, coloring it with fury and freedom. Now you are talking about a self-portrait — I speak to my Self, wake up from painting and go color my dreams.
