We Are Here Drawing

It is said that I was born in grade A, Russian labor camp in Okhotsk, Far East in late sixties. But I was not immediately registered on New York Stock Exchange. So in some way I could say I was free. My childhood I spent together with dissident artists from many different places of Soviet Union who now found themselves behind barbed wires far away from their homes. But all went well anyway and one day I was standing on a deck of a ship bound to Japan. It reminded me of my childhood camp but in absolutely inverted way. I liked Japan. After the argument with my father who spent all his time with Zen monks (argument was about Zen) I became an illegal emigrant in New York and its subway systems as my temporarily home. I was lucky though, shortly after my arrival I fell in love with an incompetent wanna-be porno star and we both got married and moved to Catskills. After many years of a conjugal bliss I found myself standing on a dirt road in the forest with tubes of my drawings in my hand and a bus ticket to somewhere. But all goes well, since it is only my two feet protected in size 9 boots which touch this solid earth.