I don´t have a job. Currently living with -and of- my parents. My bedroom smells duo the great amount of books. They gather a lot of dust. My health is great tho, but I do eat a lot.

I have some artistic sensibility, but, I´m lazy, god, so lazy.
I envy Dostoyevksy. I envy Escher, I envy all those men and women who are able to focus on their passions. Some of the artists I´m watching "nemo-et-nihil and Itsu for example" are very prolific artists. I envy them.
I possibly have no passion. I´m a sentimentalist, just like Rousseau, but I think I have no passion.

I can speak german and currently learning russian, but have no prospects of using those. Brazil is a country where art is somehow useless. Useless because the people here breath in a way they don´t need any art. I can´t make myself clearer. It´s funny because, even tho I was born in Brazil, I don´t feel brazilian, and thus, I need art. I guess been son of portuguese immigrants have something to do with this.

I watched the movie Pollock for the 6th time a few days ago, watched twice on the same day. He was a great artist. I get him.

Basically I have some doubts about civilized existence. I don´t believe in progress, I don´t know what I want to do with the time I have.

Reading Escher´s letters and seeing his work makes me feel small, I want to find what he found doing those xilos.

So I´m back to work in some new drawings. Somehow I think I have improved, even tho haven´t draw for months now.