In and out of homelessness during lockdown, after having to live in a tent in a backyard I shall tell you all about in my upcoming ‘The Art Scientist’ book when I reveal my whole story, I moved into yet another shabby place by getting an actual room of my own in a shared-house thanks to reasons I’ll also explain in my aforementioned book, a dark place so toxic and depressing that I hated everything about and everybody in it but I had no choice as my aim was getting whatever until my circumstances get better, or more like just hanging in there a little longer until I get this uncertain permeant protection visa back then. Then, thanks to lockdowns and lots of pains, art found its way back to me.
And so I started making paintings in this chapter as boredom drove me nuts and I had to do something, anything… while all restaurants and cafes closed down so I had no other means of earnings and I struggled so deeply, emotionally, financially, cooked with traumas and depression and anxiety and all… and yet, this was the first painting I attempted, but because I was very poor indeed, I didn’t have a paint brush, so I picked a tiny piece of wood I found outside when I was going for a lonely walk and used it to make this artwork.
I hate this chapter with all my heart because the people I lived with, from my own pride community even, always bullied me for being too happy and poor, as in they eventually kicked me out to go homeless again just because I couldn’t afford for rent and because, unlike them all, whenever we happened to bump into each other, I used to always say Hello with a smile and ask how everyone was doing but apparently that was wrong and made them feel uncomfortable, so toxic they wanted to stay away from each other with such an unfriendly, depressing and repulsive attitude, to a point I hated going to the kitchen because when we  gathered, nobody talked but I absorb negative energy, energy in general, really quickly and it affects me strongly while I was myself already too full to the brim with drama my whole life for a long time now.
 What do they know about pain?
They had everything I never had, financial support to family and friends, invited whoever and partied without questions, but when I asked to bring a couple of news reporters interested in my story to boost my paintings to be discovered in the hope that brings me potential financial rest, my housemates from hell did not have any of it and built me a whole check-list because they knew as a refugee I won’t have the courage to stand up for myself back then; to be explained in the upcoming book.
I was so lonesome and scared that I was not used to human company, and you can see how broken I was very clearly if you watch that first interview I ever had, which you can find on my channel or by simply searching my name. The interview happened just a few weeks shy of me being forced to going homeless again but it was the reason how these broken, disregarded, waiting, unknown paintings saved me again afterwards as people started to slowly find me just as I hoped, and ended me up in a place of my own to call home thanks to very generous, big-hearted people.
Nonetheless, from this first painting I made just after moving into that toxic shared-house, you can see what I’m made of, that I was still true to myself and beliefs no matter what, content and happy with life, finally safe and warm because coming from nothing taught me how to be grateful for everything those average  people don’t even care to think about, while I always made sure to stay humble, a  harmless little, madly optimistic being; even when all my toxic jobs in hospitality tried to spoil my soul.
I will never forget how heartbroken I was during that time… creating things with my hands from rubbish or old fabrics because I could not afford for my dreams to be a fashion designer or an artist.
There used to be a fish tank they’ve always abandoned that I took care of… fed them even though I struggled to feed myself, but  I was once accused of stealing food which is the most disrespectful thing to accuse any good-willed man with morals.
When I left, I had a dream that the fish in the tank had died, that’s how dark that house was and I was ironically the sunshine coming through its perpetually closed and blinded windows, but the universe had better plans for me because I deserved so much  better… as I ended up living in the city and to this day, where art and all kinds of people are so I can heal from distrusting humans ever again, as my life as a busker was going to start, but before that, fate had it that I first produce some 22 other paintings more after Rainbow, as if to prepare me for what was yet to come.
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Size: 40.5 cm X 30.5 cm