Back in 2014, I drew this. I drew this with the intention to express. Sure have I painted before, like this one from 1998 or this one from 1997. But those were different times. Oh I had different outlets. I had my music, I had my poi, I had my poetry. Although I never felt as if I was ever good with words. But this had to be drawn somehow. And it was the confusion of finding my lost self and my compressed, hidden anger that produced these lines. Yet it was these strokes that fueled even more confusion and anger or hesitancy and displeasure along the years. These lines that kickstarted my art career. It was these lines that taught me to use my creative thinking in a lot of cases. It taught me to love working alone or solo as some might say. Which has it pros and cons. A pro being like, I don't have to discuss anything with anybody. Oh you'd like to start producing sounds like this? Sure. Go ahead. Are you need some new spray paint? Sure. Go get some. And they con being like, working alone doesn't quite get you anywhere. I think. And another thing. I've gotten allergic to making other people's dreams come true instead of my own. There are exceptions of course. Sure have I worked normal jobs. I've worked in kitchens, factories and construction sites to name a few. With a silent voice constantly telling me, you could be doing something else. It was these lines that helped me to find my identity. From abstract to geometric. From graffiti to calligraphy. And finally finding my calling in geometric again. It's said that it's the first step which is always the hardest. And some people might not even take that first step. Let me help you by telling you how I started. It was this exact pen I used to express myself on that day. Despite that, I will not be using this pen since I... Retired it in 2018. And because I've learned that ink and aerosols don't work too well together in my opinion. So let's break it down. Drops and tails. Drops and tails. And tails. It's that easy. Art doesn't have to be complicated. Because we often make it complicated ourselves. A great example of this in my opinion would be. A poem by Joost Fondin Vondel from 1620. They even made a bench or a stage to commemorate him if I did my research correctly. But was it all worth it? All the doubt? The rage? The insecurities? The voices? And constantly being broke just to create? I don't know. But one thing is certain. I will not quit. For I'm unable to stop. So I thank you for ten years of misery and discomfort. I wouldn't have wanted it otherwise. Happy birthday. Thank you.