Windmills (diptych) Painting

I am writing my letter to nobody... I see the lines in a crumpled paper, lines become letters one by another. They make words then and my dreams take a visual shapes. They live their own lives from now. Their silence is violet and their laughing is pinky, and I have no power over them anymore. The substance of their existence encourages their uprise. And I am not longer create their future... I send my letter to nowhere with hope that somebody will open it somehow... And that somebody will see the lines in a crumpled paper, how lines will become letters one by another. That will make words then and my dreams will take a visual shapes. They will live their own lives from now. And somebody will see a part of me...