on the last page of the sketch book i discovered theses two hearts which i must have put there during the time i carried the book around: i remember the heart shaped leaf was given to me by my daughter when we were walking to the beach one day. the other heart was stuck to my skin after a night of dancing in berlin. why do i dance? why do i hold my child's hand? why do i draw? it's not the outcome that's of my interest. it's the moment. the moment when the lines appear on the white paper, the concentration, the presence. simple as that.