I was sitting on the deck, drinking a cup of mocha, while the sun was shining and a mild breeze helped the laundry to dance in the wind.
It was a really odd feeling – a positive one! That scene was so familiar and kinda comforting as I had lived this moment like about a hundred times – just that I was living in NZ back then. I used to sit on my balcony, couch cushions on the floor, mocha or coffee in my hand, reading a book or just watching the kids play rugby or cricket. I cherished those moments.
When I switched on the TV, guess who was on?
I used to watch him in my late teens, early twenties. They usually showed his show at around midnight or even later. But I loved and always felt inspired to actually buy some paint, a brush and an easel.
(Note: I’m good at painting walls creatively, but not good at painting something that is not geometrically abstract)
I gotta admit, no matter how often I had already watched his show, I was always scared he would ruin the perfect picture, but he always made it better – though I could never really tell how some of his early crazy brush strokes would turn out to be beautiful trees or mountain ranges.