Continuing my story, an artwork titled "Maria in the Fields" emerged. It depicts my childhood home, a city that was relatively unknown until it gained tragic global recognition during the war. The events that unfolded there shocked and stunned the world.
Do we remember our own childhood well? The events that happened to us, the emotions and feelings of that bright stage of life? Time, like the wind, blows out details from memory and sometimes even more. As if after watching the most resonant, emotionally impressive movie, we leave the hall or turn off the TV, and everyday life intercepts our thoughts, equalizing our emotional state.
Do we remember our own childhood well? The events that happened to us, the emotions and feelings of that bright stage of life? Time, like the wind, blows out details from memory and sometimes even more. As if after watching the most resonant, emotionally impressive movie, we leave the hall or turn off the TV, and everyday life intercepts our thoughts, equalizing our emotional state.
Am I talking about childhood?
