As a child, what was more fun than drawing on condensation?
That sheer exhilaration and fascination which surrounds the depiction of an image onto glass.
As a child, it became an addiction, every time it rained, it’s like the habit was engrained and my mother she complained, yet it kept me entertained.
We would draw stick men and smiley faces which would fade but still leave noticeable traces of a child’s carefree innocence.
Gone are those days now, it’s considered juvenile.
As an adult we must be more versatile, yet we are walking through life in single file, while we stockpile these memories of the past into locked compartments in our mind.
I feel so confined, can we go back to a world that was undefined. Less unkind.
Can we go back to the places where I left traces of smiley faces?
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