I often caught myself thinking that I had forgotten how to dream, fantasize. As a child, I did it very well - I could easily walk down the street and imagine that I was a space explorer - walking on another planet, and all passers-by are aliens. On the way, he invented the details of the landscape, the features of life in this distant world, the language spoken by the locals. Hundreds of smallest details. I could imagine myself as anyone, anywhere.

And with age, it became worse and worse, and at some point I completely forgot how to do it. Because any dream, right there, in the embryo was crushed by my kind of internal controller, who began to say that this was all nonsense, in life it does not happen that in order to get something, you have to work a lot, etc. I was insecure and generally discouraged any desire to do anything and even dream. Why do this? If there is a chasm between me and the dream.

But now, it all comes back. The rusted mechanism started working again, and I really like it. And again I can walk down the street and imagine myself in a completely different place - in the one in which it is easy and comfortable for me. I can again feel that the whole world was created for me, who just aspires to walk my hair through my hair, as if saying: “Hello, Kolya! Nice to see you".

I realized that freedom begins from within. You cannot get it without learning to think freely. And what is most surprising is that I once took this skill from myself.

What art can be without freedom? Probably something boring - driven into the framework and rules and fueled by stereotypes and foundations. Probably like that.

And I decided to release him. It leaves the frame. Meet.