My Picasso

Technics, texture, without any laws, or rules you taught me to draw LOVE. You dared me to paint over the border lines. An old paint and an old love. I wanted to learn how to paint a beautiful view, with its sky blue, some clouds and a sunset, instead you taught me LOVE and feel the love. letting me to be free as I've learned from you, and not need of any rules or to follow any instruction one, to be one with my art-work; without thinking twice, just freehand, just like a painting.

I was like one of your first paint which you loved most. Your first art-work; The most value treasure. After a few years you drew some more painting; I was by now just like an old painting forgotten by the time. stock over some more paintings, sitting in a dark corner in your wardrobe, but the one that shine first and gave your spot light; IT WAS ME the old painting, the old love.

It won't matter how long you wander or big and hollow your gallery may be; I know you will always be back and give a glace at me. Your old love, your old painting. MY PICASSO.

Days passed by, Night passed by and sometimes, only sometimes; I felt the days and the night longer than others. but seems to be there were some traces and unique Technics, some reference that you only drew it on me, that always made you to come back where you started to feel love, to find the true love on your old paint... when it meant to be one with your artwork.