My painting for me is a car that follows me in the rear-view mirror, without knowing whether it chases me or not; the moment when someone comes out of the café restroom and I go in; a child who, for the first time, wants to hide something; the hand symbol on the traffic light, which I watch from the car; a black-and-white striped shirt that I wash together with colorful clothes; a taken-down arch, removed walls, and a living room widened by their absence.