Västervik, Sweden, I visit the city where I lived when I was young. Walking the streets giving life to memories. Find the house where I rented a garret. And the former printing works which became my studio for some years. Now the backyard is an open-air café. And my old studio is a family home, neatly wrapped in reddish-brown wood panelling with black corners. Then it was yellowish and the old plaster was cracked.
Childhood, youth and getting older. I am more than a grown-up person and all houses in this little city are decorated with light opaque paints: yellow, blue, green, rose. People have a better life, are healthier and earn more money. That is good.
Still I am happy to find the maybe very last house that has not yet got choked by plastic paint, but is breathing and telling a story.
Children like things inspiring imagination. I recognize the child within me, and that's a good feeling.
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