60x80cm // Mixed media (Acrylics, collage of photography on canvas) // 2016 

I remember, being a kid and dreaming. Dreams of Peace and victory. The victory of my nation, the victory of the people, my own victory. Dreams of growing up as a man, as a nation. Strong and beautiful as the sun.


Dreams of being someone, somewhere. Something that counts.

Maybe a sailor, I always liked the sea. How exciting it would be to take on all

the storms with the an open chest.


One day Peace finally arrived but the storm insisted to stay.

Peace must be protected at all costs !

-It was said.

And so in the name of Peace, the storm, took over all over the nation.

It took over leaving a trace of destruction and misery generating a complete



So much shooting,

investigating, instigating, lying, faking, condemning, convicting...

All in the name of Peace - they say.


So many bullets.

So hard to hide, so easy to die.

Peace above all ! - they insisted.

BAMM!! my dreams got shot, Whose

fault is it? No one, I guess. They were

just lost bullets, the ones that killed my



Dreams of a nation, of me being a sailor,

of being someone, somewhere, some -

thing that counts.


I won’t cry, I won’t shear a tear and even

though the storm lives in me,

I don’t have the time for the blues.

All I want is to calm down my stomach,

my spirit...


My boat is outside anchored so am I.

Outside and anchored,

with no time for the blues.