Twisted space, twisted rainbow. What does a rainbow turn into when it hides out of sight? What's there? How is this beauty born? Where do our dreams come from? Again, I did well in school, and I perfectly understand why a rainbow appears in the sky. But this knowledge does not prevent me from imagining how it could be. Is the color red being saturated by the flower, or is the flower being brightened by the rainbow? Again, when I sit down in front of the easel, I create my own world, in which only my laws work. In my world, the rainbow is real, tangible and alive. In my world, she breathes and dances, dispersing the blackness of emptiness. In my illusory world, it sparkles and changes. Why? Why not? I see it this way, I feel it this way, I dream like that and draw my dream.