These nocturnal paintings involve plenty of loneliness and sorrow. I don't know anything more beautiful than the first snow of the winter in the streets and trees. When it turns slushy and the street lamps are lit in the evening, I see myself as a child in these streets. This is the world from which I was cut off at the age of eight. Life - the most fragile and at the same time the most solid, springs up from the inside. From the outside it can only be modified, cloned, destroyed, forged. Man usually longs for what he has given up voluntarily and without thinking. The object of my longing was taken away, robbed and broken. That's the difference, and the cause of this never-ending yearning and nightmare!